


Family Don't End With Blood

by amorluzymelodia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, Nightmares, Past Sexual Assault, Violence, cursing, some symptoms of PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:24:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9554930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorluzymelodia/pseuds/amorluzymelodia
Summary: Request: hiya, I love your oneshots, but I am not sure if you're still writing? If you are, Can I request one where the reader is a Dean's daughterr (he doesn't know about her) and when they met her she's a teen, reluctant to bond with him because her family is really toxic. So Dean takes her in and tries to show her that family doesn't just mean blood, but something more? Please?





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey freak!” your knees hit the concrete as you were pushed from behind. You sighed and stood up slowly, slinging your ratty old bag over your shoulder and facing the group of classmates who had shoved you.

“Leave me alone.” You said strongly but they just laughed.

“Why don’t you just leave?” one of the boys shouted, you hadn’t bothered learning his name, you wouldn’t be here long enough for it to matter.

“Gladly,” you said, turning around to walk away, but one of them ran in front of you and blocked your path.

“No one wants you here, you freak.” He said. “The Miller’s only took you in because they wanted the money. Mr. Miller uses it to pay off his whores.”

You smirked at him. “Well with the prices your mom charges I’m sure that’s true.” You said and the group standing around you ooh’d.

The boy standing in front of you glared at you for a moment and then his fist came flying at your face, colliding with your jaw. Your head snapped to the side and you spit blood out of your mouth. Before you could recover fully he punched you in the gut and one of his friends knocked your knees, causing you to buckle on the ground.

“Yeah you better stay down, bitch!” he spat. “No wonder your parents didn’t want you, you’re worthless.”

Slowly you stood up and squared your shoulders, balling your hand in a tight fist and swinging it at his face. You felt his nose break under your fist and he went reeling back. A few of his friends hurried forward to help him but you caught one with a jab to the ribs and another with a kick to the crotch, sending them both to the ground. The rest of the students were cheering until a teacher ran up, pulling you off of the boys and sending them to the nurse. He escorted you to the principal’s office where you were assigned two weeks of detention after school, starting the next day. It hadn’t even been a week and you’d already gotten yourself detention, terrific. When you’d tried to explain that they had hit you first the principal just waved it off. You weren’t surprised. This was a school full of rich kids whose rich fathers paid the teacher’s salaries and you were the new, weird girl. Of course they wouldn’t believe you. They called your current guardian—Mr. Miller—and when his shiny red Porsche pulled up to the school you got in the back seat silently. It wasn’t until you pulled through the fancy gate at the entrance to their neighborhood that you started to get nervous. Mr. Miller pulled into the garage and shut off the car and the two of you sat there in silence for a moment.

“Go to your room.” He said quietly and your heart started racing. You obeyed and he followed you silently, shutting the door behind him.

“Do you understand how bad this looks?” he demanded. “We take you in, out of the goodness of our hearts and you disrespect us by fighting at school? A school that we pay for you to attend?”

“They started it,” you mumbled and he raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t you dare talk back to me.” He hissed. “We have a reputation to uphold, little missy—“

“Yeah I know.” You spat. “That’s why I’m here. Your reputation has gone to shit after your wife was caught cheating on you with her yoga instructor, so you figured taking in a deadbeat kid would make it seem like your marriage is stronger than ever and everything is fine. I get it. Must be hard, being you.”

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you forcefully towards the closet, where he pulled out a suitcase, throwing it at you.

“Pack your things.” He said sharply and left, slamming the door behind him.

The next morning you were picked up by a lady from Social Services who, the whole time you were putting your belongings—which admittedly were only a suitcase and backpack—in the car, was profusely apologizing to the Millers. As you pulled away she shot you a dirty look, switching off the radio when you turned it to a classic rock station.

“This is the sixth home in eight months, Y/N.” she said disappointedly and you shrugged.

“They were assholes.” You spat and she sighed.

“You say that about all of them.”

“They’ve all been assholes. You’d think your screening process would be a bit more thorough.”

She turned to look at you as you stopped at a red light. “The couples are not the issue, Y/N. It’s your attitude. If I were you I would make some changes for the next time.”

You laughed. “Next time. Sure. My own parents didn’t want me, why would anyone else?”

Something like sympathy flashed over her features but it was gone quickly. “There will be a next time.” She said quietly and then changed back to her demanding voice. “And you _will_ behave.”

You saluted her sarcastically and she shook her head, turning on a pop radio station with an upbeat, whiny song that made you grimace. The rest of the ride was spent with you ignoring each other. After about an hour of driving the radio turned to static and the lights in the car started flashing on and off. She looked at you like it was your fault and you just shrugged. You jumped when a cloud of what looked like black smoke shot in front of the car and she swerved, caught off guard. When she got the car back on track you started to calm down, but then the windows shattered and another cloud of black smoke forced its way inside the car and the last thing you remember before blacking out was the sound of the car crashing into a tree.

You woke up slowly, your eyes adjusting to the lack of light. The first thing you noticed was the faint smell of rotten eggs, like sulfur. But you didn’t have time to think about that before you realized that there was something wet dripping down the side of your face. You used the back of your hand to wipe if off, realizing it was blood, dripping down from a cut on your forehead, presumably from the crash. Wait…the crash! You looked around and saw that you were in a concrete room, sitting on the floor. There were no windows, and one very thick looking metal door, which was closed and upon further investigation, locked. Where were you? Had someone stumbled upon the crash and taken you somewhere? From what you could tell, your head was still bleeding, so you ripped off a piece of your shirt and wadded it up against the wound while you took stock of the rest of your body. You were sore all over, and you felt a shooting pain in your ankle when you tried to stand up. It didn’t feel like it was broken, but it was at least sprained. As you slid down the wall, onto the floor again the metal door opened and the silhouette of a man was outlined. As he stepped into the room you noticed that he was tall, looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days and his eyes were…black? You wondered if the blood loss and bump on your head was making you see things.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” he said, his southern drawl deep and slow.

“Who are you?” you demanded. “How do you know my name?”

He smiled at you, and it made your stomach uneasy. “We’ve been looking for you for a while, girl.”

“Looking for me? Why?” you’d never seen this man before, couldn’t fathom why anyone would be looking for you, seeing as how the people in your life up until now hadn’t wanted anything to do with you at all.

“You’re important. We need you.” He said, confusing you more.

Your eyes narrowed. “Need me for what? Where the hell am I?”

He just shook his head. “All in good time. If this goes according to plan, you’ll get out of here with no more than a scratch.”

“And if it doesn’t go according to plan?” you asked warily and he just smiled at you, his eyes still completely black.

“Well, right now that’s up to you.” He said and pulled out a pocket knife, walking slowly towards you while you scooted as far back as possible.

“Leave me alone!” you yelled but he just grabbed your wrist, squeezing tight and forcing your hand to flop open, palm up. He pressed the blade down across your palm until red appeared and led the blood drip into an empty cup. Then, to your ever growing surprise, he let you go. “That’s it?” you asked breathlessly as he walked back over to the door.

“For now,” he said and slammed the door behind him, you heard it lock and slid down the wall, clutching your bleeding hand to your chest and placing the wadded up shirt back over the wound on your forehead. You weren’t sure how long you sat there and you were exhausted, probably from blood loss. Just as you were about to drift off the metal door was thrown open and the man from before came in, a woman following behind him. The man sauntered over to you, a cell phone in his hand.

“Well, kid you passed the test.” He said casually.

“What test?” you asked but he ignored you, dialing on the phone while the woman walked over to you and pulled you up, holding your arms behind your back painfully.

The phone rang a few times and then a deep voice answered.

“Yeah?” it said and the man grinned.

“Dean Winchester.” He said and the line was silent for a moment.

“Who is this?” the voice on the other end asked suspiciously.

“Well right now I’m wearing an accountant, but you’d probably remember me under the name Brutus.”

“How did you get this number?” the voice asked harshly but the man—Brutus—ignored the question.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said. “I’m at an old warehouse, Downing Street on the outskirts of Wichita, Kansas. And,” his eyes flashed to you. “I’ve got your daughter here with me.”

Your eyes went wide and your heart nearly stopped. Daughter? Was this some sick game they were playing?

“I don’t have a daughter.” The voice on the phone said, although he sounded hesitant.

“Marion, Montana sixteen years ago. I’m sure the name Natalie Y/L/N means something to you. But, hey, if you don’t believe me…” he nodded to the woman and held up the phone. You screamed as she wrenched your arm, dislocating your shoulder. “Whether you believe she’s your daughter or not, you wouldn’t let an innocent girl die would you?”

“Screw you, jackass!” you shouted but screamed when the woman put pressure on your dislocated shoulder.

“Be here in twenty-four hours, Winchester.” Brutus said. “Or we’ll turn her into a hellhound’s chewtoy.” With that he hung up the phone and the woman pushed you to the ground harshly.

Surprisingly they left you alone after that, locking the door behind them. You cradled your arm against your chest to and sat against the wall, trying to breathe around the pain in your head, ankle and shoulder. It was the longest twenty-four hours of your life, and every second was spent wondering if the next person to come through that door would be there to kill you. With nothing to distract you, your mind kept going back to the fact that the man with the black eyes had said you were the daughter of whoever was on the phone. Of course, he could be lying, just trying to scare the man on the other line. But what he had said about you passing their test…could he be talking about a genetic test? They did take your blood after all. Perhaps it was a paternity test, to check and see if you were in fact the daughter of whoever they had called. He had also mentioned Marion, Montana which is where you’d been born sixteen years ago. This was all too strange to comprehend, and even though the thought of possibly meeting your father excited you, it also brought a hard feeling to the pit of your stomach. Your parents hadn’t wanted you, that much you knew, even if no one would tell you much else.

However, there was something else that was weighing heavy on your mind. The man with the black eyes—which was concerning in it’s own right—had mentioned something about hellhounds. You’d heard of hellhounds in a mythology class. It had been the only class you’d actually enjoyed and you’d absorbed the information like air. You knew hellhounds usually went after people who were destined for the fires of Hell, and while you weren’t exactly a saint, you didn’t think you’d done anything that warranted being sent to Hell for eternity. So much of this situation didn’t make sense. Like how you got here in the first place, or the black smoke that caused the crash. Though you didn’t have much time to think about that before you heard a commotion outside the door. There was shouting, the sounds of fighting, a terrifying scream and you saw an orange light flash under the door before a thud and it went quiet. You huddled against the wall, ready to defend yourself from whatever came through the door.

When the door slammed open you were relieved to see that it wasn’t the Brutus, or the woman from before but two extremely tall men you hadn’t seen before. One had long brown hair touching his shoulders and a gun in his hands. The other had short dark blonde hair and held a knife with a serrated edge that you saw was covered in blood. Between the gun and the bloody knife, your guard was instantly back up but the two men made no move to harm you. In fact, the man with the long hair tucked his gun into the back of his jeans and knelt down to your level, holding up his hands to show you he was unarmed.

“Hey,” he said quietly, like he was trying not to spook you. “We’re not going to hurt you, okay? I’m Sam. This is my brother Dean.” He motioned to the other man, who was staring at you like he was in shock. “We’re gonna get you out of here. But first,” he pulled out a flask and unscrewed the lid. “This is holy water. I’m just going to sprinkle some on your arm, to make sure you aren’t possessed. If you aren’t, it won’t hurt at all.”

Nothing he said made any sense but you nodded slowly, allowing him to sprinkle the liquid on your arm, and thankfully nothing happened. He nodded, seeming relieved and screwed the cap back on the flask, tucking it back in his jacket.

“What’s your name?” Sam asked.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” you said.

“Let’s get you out of here, Y/N.” Sam said. “Can you walk?”

“I—I think so.” You said, standing shakily and placing as much weight on your ankle as you could before you collapsed in pain. “Nope, guess not. Must’ve sprained my ankle in the crash.”

“Crash?” the short haired one asked, speaking for the first time since they entered the room.

You nodded. “I was in the car with my social worker when this weird black smoke appeared in front of the car. We swerved to avoid it but then it was in the car too, and we crashed into a tree. That’s how I got this.” You pointed to the cut on your forehead and Sam raised his hands, a question in his eyes. You nodded and he touched lightly around the wound.

“It’s not deep, not even bleeding anymore.” He said. “You won’t need stitches, though we should keep an eye on it. Anything else hurt?”

“They dislocated my shoulder,” you said, still cradling it tenderly.

Sam nodded and slid his arms under your knees and around your back, carefully lifting you and carrying you out of the room, up some stairs and through an old warehouse. The sun hurt your eyes as he brought you to an old black car—though from the way it was shining you’d think it was brand new—and set you in the back seat. Then he got in the front seat and the other one—Dean?—got in the driver’s side, peeling out of the old parking lot quickly.

“You’re Dean?” you asked and he met your gaze in the rearview mirror for a split second before looking back at the road. “Dean Winchester?”

“Yeah,” he said simply.

“Why did they call you?” you asked. “The man and the woman they—“

“They were demons.” Dean said shortly and Sam hit his arm.

“Way to sugarcoat it, Dean!” he scolded but Dean just shrugged.

Demons. Huh, that was a new one. To be honest, you’d believed in the spiritual world for a long time and were always open minded about the existence of beings that weren’t human. So the fact that demons were real didn’t really phase you all that much. But there was still a question rattling around in your head that you needed answered.

“They said that you were my father.” You said sharply and you could almost feel the air get sucked out of the car. “Were they telling the truth?” they didn’t answer. “Are you my father?”

There was a long moment of silence wherein Sam and Dean shared a few knowing looks, like they were having a silent conversation. Just as you were about to yell and demand that they tell you, Dean spoke.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah I am.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is turning out longer and more angsty than I anticipated, but I promise it's heading somewhere! As always I love feedback and I take requests, thank you for reading!

Apart from it’s warehouse-like appearance on the outside, the “Bunker” as they’d called it, was nicer than most of the houses you’d live in. You had your own room, own bathroom and they’d even taken you shopping on the way there for some new clothes and a toothbrush and other various assorted items. Of course you were all hesitant to accept a demon’s word, so when you arrived at the bunker Sam had begun researching all he could about you. You were equal parts shocked and impressed when he hacked into the foster care system effortlessly, bringing up your information within minutes. You’d been born in Marion, Montana sixteen years ago to Natalie Y/L/N at Kalispell Regional Medical Center weighing in at seven pounds, five ounces. You were named Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N and were taken home after a day or so in the hospital. The records showed you were released into the care of the state when you were three years old, and bounced around from the orphanage and various foster homes until a few days ago when you’d been kidnapped and saved by the Winchesters.

“Well?” You asked cautiously, looking at Dean. “Am I your daughter?”

Dean didn’t say anything, just stared at the computer screen, his mouth hanging open, so Sam spoke up.

“Dean we were in Marion, Montana sixteen years ago, nine months before she was born, and you did—“ he looked at you, seeming to think of the best way to phrase what he was thinking. “Hang out with a girl named Natalie Y/L/N.” Dean still said nothing, so Sam looked back at you, smiling awkwardly. “Looks like you’re a Winchester, Y/N. Welcome to the family.”

You smiled back at him and looked at Dean, who cleared his throat a few times before smiling slightly and nodding at you.

“Y-yeah, welcome to the club, kid.” He said.

The three of you hadn’t really talked about it after that. Sam was kind and generous and had given you “the talk” about the monsters that inhabited the world and the hunters that killed them. He seemed surprised when you accepted that reality fairly quickly, but in really he wasn’t the one you really wanted to talk to. Dean had avoided you since you’d stepped into the bunker, which you couldn’t deny, hurt a bit. You knew this was probably as weird for him as it was for you, so you didn’t push it, but after a few awkward days of sidestepping around one another you decided the tension needed to break.

You hadn’t been able to do much, even after Sam popped your dislocated shoulder back into place and wrapped up your sprained ankle. So you took to wandering the bunker, or reading some of the many books in the library. One afternoon you came down to the kitchen to find Sam eating a sandwich.

“Hey, kiddo.” He said kindly, smiling at you. It just then occurred to you that if what Brutus had said was true and Dean truly was your father, then that made Sam your uncle. And so far he’d been the perfect uncle, kind and supportive. Though truthfully you didn’t exactly have a reference for what a good uncle was supposed to be. “How’s your shoulder?”

You shrugged with your good shoulder, careful not to agitate the one in the sling. “Better. Where’s Dean?”

Sam hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “In the garage I think. You two talked at all?”

You shook your head and sat down opposite him, accepting the glass of water he handed you. “We’ve just been avoiding each other. There’s not exactly a good way to start the ‘hey I’m your long lost daughter’ conversation, ya know?”

Sam chuckled and nodded. “I can imagine. You’ve probably got a lot of questions, but he does too. Eventually you’re just gonna have to bite the bullet and talk about what you’re feeling.”

You scratched the back of your neck. “Yeah, uh…I’m not exactly great when it comes to talking about my feelings.” You admitted and Sam laughed.

“Well then you’re definitely Dean’s daughter.” He met your gaze evenly. “But not talking about it won’t help either.”

You sighed and nodded and Sam stood up, patting you on the back and putting his dishes in the sink, before heading off to the library. You drank the rest of your water before heading towards the garage. There were a number of vintage cars and a motorbike which you gawked over, running your fingers lightly over the seat, in awe of how well-kept it was.

“Ow, shit!” you heard come from the end of the garage followed by the clinking of something metal hitting the ground. You grinned and found Dean’s legs sticking out from underneath his Impala, a toolbox open on the ground beside him.

“Need a hand?” you called and there was a thump followed by a slew of curse words as he presumably hit his head. You laughed as he slid out from under the car.

“Damn, kid warn a guy next time.” He grumbled but you just smiled.

“Sorry,” you said but he didn’t look angry. “What’re you working on?”

Dean sat up, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just givin’ her a tune up.” He said.

“She’s beautiful.” You said. “’67 right? 327 four-barrel, 275 horsepower.” Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and you shrugged. “In one of the foster homes I lived in, the guy owned a garage. Sometimes he’d let me help him with the cars. I picked up a few things.”

“More than a few,” Dean said, and you couldn’t help but smile at his impressed tone. “Foster home huh?”

You nodded. “One of ‘em.”

His eyebrows creased. “How many were there?”

You shrugged. “A dozen or so, maybe more. I stopped keeping track a few years ago.”

Dean looked at the ground awkwardly, clearly not wanting to meet your gaze. “None of ‘em worked out huh?”

You scratched absently at your arm. “Nope. I was at the orphanage for a while but once you turn eleven they try and cart you off on foster homes. I guess they don’t want to deal with the pre-pubescent awkwardness and teen angst.”

Dean nodded awkwardly and kicked the toolbox closed, sitting down on the top while you leaned against the wall near the Impala. “So you’ve been in the system your whole life?” he asked hesitantly.

“My mom raised me until I was about three, but her husband—“

“She was married?” he interrupted, shocked.

You nodded. “Some guy from her school, I think. He got drunk one night and shot my mom, then himself. A neighbor found me the next day, asleep next to my mom’s body.”

“Jesus,” Dean breathed quietly. “Do you remember it?” he asked hesitantly, almost like he didn’t want to know the answer.

“Vaguely. I remember a lot of red, loud noises and how…quiet it was afterwards. I went into the system not long after that.”

"How'd you find all that out? I thought the state would've locked that info up pretty tight." 

You smirked. "Sam's not the only one who's good at hacking." you said and Dean raised his eyebrows, and you could tell he was impressed. You shrugged. "It gets boring at the orphanage, and I got curious. A lot of the other kids were jealous. Most of them don't know where they came from, at least I know. And at least my story was interesting." 

Dean scoffed. "Yeah that's one word for it." 

It was obvious that Dean was uncomfortable with your story, and you couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t exactly a happy story, but you’d accepted it a long time ago, even though you still had nightmares tinted red with the sound of gunshots ringing out.  There was a small part of you wanted him to feel bad, to feel guilty for abandoning your mother when she was pregnant, and never seeking her out again. It wasn’t technically because of him that you’d been forced to live in an orphanage and various foster homes for nearly your whole life, but it was easier to blame him. The two of you were silent for a long time before Dean seemed to feel uncomfortable and he started cleaning up the various tools lying around.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” You said simply and Dean chuckled, tossing a rag into the toolbox and closing it again with his foot.

“Two-way street, kid. You’ve been avoiding me too.” 

You fidgeted, knowing he was right. “So…how’d you meet my mom?” you asked quietly and Dean sighed, nodding and leaning up against the car.

“When we were in high school. We were in town on a job, chasing a ghoul with a taste for live flesh.” You wrinkled your nose. “Your mom got caught in the middle, I stopped it from killing her. She was…grateful.” You caught on to his suggestive tone and held up your hands.

“Okay, okay I get it!” you said quickly and he looked down, grinning. 

“We spent a few days together after that, then we moved on to the next case. She and I didn’t exchange numbers or anything, so I had no way of knowing she was…about you.” He looked at you with a guilty expression.

That surprised you, but you also weren’t sure he was telling the truth. “You didn’t know she was pregnant?” you asked skeptically.

“No,” Dean said, exasperated. “We were sixteen and stupid, caught up in the adrenalin and the high from almost dying. It was a dumb mistake…”

“So I was a mistake?” you accused and his eyes grew wide when he realized what he’d said.

“No! I didn’t mean…I just meant…shit.” He huffed, dropping his head in his hands and taking a deep breath before looking back at you. “Shit, kid I don’t know what to say. I don’t exactly have a guide book on how to be a dad.”

You were angry and frustrated and the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“You’re not my dad. You’re a sperm donor.” And with that you stormed out of the garage, leaving Dean speechless behind you.


	3. Chapter 3

Your already-rocky relationship with Dean was now even rockier. After your argument in the garage you’d stormed back into the bunker, nearly running into Sam. He caught you before you fell, putting his hands on your elbows lightly, careful of your injured shoulder.

“Whoa, watch where you’re going kid!” he laughed and then he noticed the angry tears in your eyes. He leaned down to look at you closer. “Y/N? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Just a teenage mistake. A one-night stand that’s coming back to bite Dean in the ass.” You grumbled and Sam’s eyes widened.

“What?” he asked, shocked. “Did he say that?”

“He didn’t have to.” You said dejectedly and pulled away from Sam gently, hurrying to your room and slamming the door behind you. Your heart was racing and you were physically shaking. Almost without you making the conscious decision to do it, you punched the concrete wall, not hard enough to break your hand but hard enough that you had to shake it out afterwards. That shocked you out of your anger a bit and you collapsed on your bed, flopping back on the pillows.

You were used to rejection. You had been since you were a kid. After being passed over by countless couples at the orphanage and tossed out of various foster homes, you figured it was just your destiny to never belong, to never have a true family, to be alone. However, when Sam and Dean had shown up and they confirmed that Dean was indeed your father, there was small part of you that hoped this would be it, that this was what you’d been wanting and hoping for for your entire life. Not only were you actually getting a family, but it was—partly—your actual, biological family. But of course the world was not on your side and now it was all falling apart yet again.

Frustrated and upset, you dug in your bag for your I-pod and headphones, popping them in your ears and turning up the music as loud as it would go, losing yourself in it.

After a few songs you were suddenly aware that you weren’t alone, and when you opened your eyes slowly you saw Sam standing in the doorway, looking awkward. Your first instinct was to tell him to leave you alone and slam the door—after all that’s what you’d done every time before—but you had to remind yourself that he’d done nothing wrong, and he didn’t deserve your anger, so you paused your music took out your headphones.

“Can we talk for a sec?” he asked and you gestured noncommittally.

Sam sat down on the edge of your bed while you sat up and folded your legs under you.

“I talked to Dean.” He said simply and you averted your eyes. “Do you think maybe you embellished a little on what happened?”

You huffed. “He said it was a mistake, a dumb teenage mistake.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, but you know he didn’t mean that _you_ were a mistake. He just meant that they should’ve been more careful, shouldn’t have jumped in to things like they did. He doesn’t think you’re a mistake, Y/N.” he said honestly, but you were still angry.

“Look, Sam I get it okay? My mom was just a dumb teenage fling and he freaked out and ran when he found out she had a bun in the oven, and I can’t say that I blame him. I wouldn’t want a fucked up kid either.” You looked down at the bedspread.

“Is that really what you think?” Sam asked quietly. “Y/N you are _not_ a fuck up! And believe it or not, Dean really didn’t know your mom was pregnant. Our dad got the hell out of dodge pretty quick after a hunt, and Dean and I barely had time to pack, let alone say goodbye to anyone. Yeah maybe he shouldn’t have jumped in to bed right away, but our lifestyle doesn’t exactly make it easy to keep in contact with people, or even make friends really. And by the time she realized she was pregnant we’d been gone for months. Trust me, if he’d have known, he wouldn’t have taken off like that.”

There wasn’t a hint of a lie in his voice and you couldn’t help but believe him. And even though you were angry and upset, you knew that he had no reason to lie to you, that he must be telling the truth. So you looked up at him shyly, biting your lip in awkwardness. Sam seemed to realize that you didn’t know what to say, so he spoke again.

“Our dad wasn’t around that much when we were kids. At least, not as much as he probably should have been. We basically had to raise ourselves…” he laughed slightly. “well more like Dean had to raise me. And trust me, he wouldn’t knowingly do that to his kid.”

“Then why has he been avoiding me?” you asked quietly.

“This is hard on him, Y/N.” he told you. “He feels guilty.”

You frowned, and your eyebrows creased. “Why? If he really didn’t know about me then why should he feel guilty?” you asked but Sam just shrugged.

“I think you need to talk to him about that.” He said and you sighed, knowing he was right.

“He probably doesn’t even want to see me right now.” You whispered but Sam put his hand on your good shoulder softly and you looked up at him.

“He does, believe me. You both just need to take some time to get to know each other. It’ll work out, I promise.”

You nodded. “Thanks, Sam.” The two of you smiled at one another. “Guess this makes you my uncle huh?”

Sam laughed and ran a hand through his long hair. “Yeah I guess it does!” he leaned in conspiratorially. “And trust me, we’re going to play a bunch of pranks on my brother, but I think first you two need to talk things through.”

You laughed and then nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Sam patted you on the knee and stood up. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to go on a run so I’ll be out for a while.”

You grimaced as he walked to the door. “Have fun, Roadrunner!” You called after him. “Don’t let Wylie Coyote catch up with you.”

Sam turned to look at you and smiled. “Yeah, you’re definitely Dean’s kid.” He closed the door behind him.

After a few minutes of mustering up the courage you headed out of your room and walked around the bunker, looking for Dean. Finally, you found him in the kitchen, drinking a beer.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly.

“Hey,” he said cautiously and then turned, pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and looked back at you.

“Want one?” he asked.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

He shrugged, popping the top off of your bottle. “Sure, why not? I had my first beer around your age, probably before actually.”

You accepted the beer and smirked. “You think this is my first beer?”

Dean laughed and raised his bottle in cheers and you both took a swig.

“I’m sorry.” You said after a few moments of silence. “For storming out, and for what I said. You didn’t deserve that.”

Dean shrugged one shoulder and took a swig of his beer. “You were angry, can’t really blame you for that.”

But you weren’t going to let yourself off that easy. “It was wrong, and I shouldn’t have said it. I know this is hard for you too and I was too caught up in my own bullshit. You didn’t ask for all of this, and you’re just doing the best you can with the situation. I’m sorry.” You repeated and he nodded.

“I’m sorry too.” he said, and from the way he said it, you could tell that he wasn’t used to talking about his feelings either. “You got tossed into this world real quick and I can’t imagine what that’s like. I’m not really a touch-feely guy, but I should’ve taken the time to ask how you were doing with all this.”

“Thank you.” you said and Dean sighed a laugh.

“You sure you’re sixteen?” he asked and you laughed. “You seem pretty mature for a teenager.”

The two of you sat down at the kitchen table and you shrugged. “I had to grow up pretty fast, I guess.” You said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Not all of the places I lived were very child-friendly.”

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

Shit. This wasn’t something you liked to talk about and here you’d brought it up yourself. Oh well, better bite the bullet now that the subject was raised. You decided to start off simple and shrugged, taking a long pull from your beer.

“Let’s just say the screening process for foster homes could probably be a lot stricter. Not everyone who takes in foster kids should be allowed to.”

Dean seemed to catch on quickly, and leaned forward. “What happened?” he asked gruffly, his demeanor changing instantly.

“You know how the fact that monsters are real didn’t really shock me?” you said and he nodded. “That’s because I’ve lived with monsters. Just…not of the supernatural nature.”

“Did they hurt you?” Dean’s voice was low, and angry.

Even though Dean was your father, and you were supposed to be able to tell him anything, there still wasn’t the history there. He hadn’t raised you, and you hadn’t grown up with him. So you were hesitant to lay out your whole life story to him, even though you were growing to want to. There was a wall you’d put up years ago, ironclad and fortified, and it was going to take some time to knock it down, and let anyone—even your father—in. So you just grinned sardonically.

“We all have our crosses to bear right?” you said simply and though you could tell that he wanted to pry, Dean just nodded and you decided to change the subject before he could ask anything else. “Why did those demons want me anyway?”

Dean clearly knew you were trying to change the subject, but he didn’t press it, just leaned back in his chair and took a drink. “Bait probably. Sam and I have made our way on more than one demon’s hit list. Probably figured that if they had you, Sam and I would come running.”

“Which you did,” you pointed out and he smirked.

“We save people, kid.” He said gruffly. “We weren’t going to let you get hurt.”

“How’d they even know where I was? Or who I was?” these questions had been rattling around your brain since the crash and you. “They knew my name, where I was. And Brutus said that they’d been looking for me for a while.”

Dean looked uncomfortable. “Well that’s awesome.” He said sarcastically. “Take it from me, when a demon’s looking for you, it can’t be for anything good.”

“Awesome,” you echoed and Dean smirked.

“Guys?” Sam’s voice yelled from somewhere in the bunker.

“In the kitchen, Sammy!” Dean called and Sam came in, sweaty and breathing hard.

Dean rolled his eyes. “How’d the run go?” he asked, his tone sarcastic. “The coyote caught up with you yet?”

You laughed and Sam sighed roughly. “Yep, you two are definitely related. We’ve got a problem.”

“What?” you and Dean asked at the same time and Sam pulled out his phone.

“I set up a google alert for anything related to Y/N Y/L/N when we got back to the bunker. I figured if she’s in the foster system, her disappearance wouldn’t go unnoticed, especially after the car crash you and your social worker were in. While I was on my run something popped up.” He opened up a news app on his phone and handed it to you and Dean, turning up the volume. There was a news reporter talking in a studio, the footage of a wrecked car behind her, with police and an ambulance on the scene. You instantly recognized your social worker’s car and the highway where you’d crashed. Below the footage there was a picture of you—a school picture from last year—with information about you listed underneath; your age, height, weight, eye/hair color and what you’d been wearing when you’d last been seen.

_"_ _Sixteen-year-old Y/N Y/L/N was last seen with social worker, Carey Randall, in a blue 2014 Honda Civic on Highway Four driving east.”_ The reporter was saying. _“When something caused the car to veer off the road and crash into a tree, killing Carey Randall on impact. Y/N Y/L/N is nowhere to be found, and it is assumed that whoever caused the crash did so in order to abduct Miss Y/L/N. Here with us today is Miss Y/L/N’s case manager Brandon Gregory.”_

The screen widened so that you could see a man in a pressed suit sitting next to the reporter, and you instantly recognized him as your case manager from Social Services. You weren’t overly fond of him, seeing as how he hadn’t seemed to care much about you either, carting you off on couples that were clearly not suited to be looking after a child. But now he looked pleadingly at the camera, speaking low and meaningfully.

_“We beg anyone with information on Y/N’s whereabouts to come forward,”_ he said desperately. _“We have it on good authority that the person responsible for her disappearance is her biological father, Dean Winchester, notorious convict responsible for multiple murders over the years.”_

“What?!” Dean shouted and Sam shushed him.

“Watch!” he urged and you and Dean looked back to the screen. 

_“Dean Winchester is a very dangerous man, and his sudden interest in his daughter, Y/N Y/L/N can only be for criminal reasons. Anyone who sees this man—“_ a mug-shot of Dean popped up with your picture next to it. It looked more than few years old, but it was clearly him. _“Or Miss Y/L/N is urged to call the police immediately, but_ do not approach _, for Dean Winchester is a dangerous individual who is known to shoot and kill civilians.”_

The camera panned back to Brandon Gregory and he had tears in his eyes, which you knew where fake.

_“Please,”_ he said roughly. _“We just want to find Y/N safe, and bring her home. Please.”_

The camera focused on him for a moment, before panning back to the reporter, who ended the report and began talking about some local zoo. Sam scrolled back to the last shot of Brandon and paused it.

“Look! Look at his eyes!” he said, panicked, and you and Dean leaned in, squinting at the screen.

“Oh, shit.” Dean breathed and you saw it too.

Brandon’s eyes were black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay there is some Hogwarts talk in this chapter. The reader mentions her Hogwarts house is Slytherin (because that's what I am) but feel free to replace it with your own house! Also, in my head Sam is a Slytherin and Dean is a Gryffindor but if you see them in a different house, once again just replace it with whatever house you see fit!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and as always I love comments and I take suggestions!

Dean sat back and ran his hands over his face, while you stared blankly at the screen, trying to gauge what you’d seen.

“So Brandon…is a demon?” you asked and Sam let out a low breath, nodding. “So what we do?”

“ _We_ don’t do anything,” Dean piped up. “Sam and I hunt the bastard down and _you_ stay here.”

“Well actually…” Sam interjected. “You and I probably can’t do much either, Dean.”

“Excuse me?” Dean grumbled and you smirked.

“Dean they just plastered your face all over the news, and they’ve probably got a watchful eye out for me too. We wouldn’t get within a mile of them without getting jumped.”

An idea suddenly occurred to you and even though you knew it wasn’t going to go over well, and that they’d be angry and fight you on it, you spoke up anyway.

"I can.” You said quietly. “I can get past them.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up but Dean just laughed. “Yeah, sure kid.” When he realized that you were serious his face fell and he leaned forward, shaking his head. “Nope, no way.”

“Y/N are you insane?” Sam demanded.

“Use me as bait! I can get past them for long enough to get them distracted, then you and Sam can bust in and finish the job!”

“No! Under no circumstances are you going anywhere near those demons!” Dean yelled and you huffed.

“And why the hell not?” you yelled.

“Because I’m not putting you in danger! You’re my kid and I want you safe, and as far away from all this crap as I can possibly get you.” Dean’s voice was full of heart and honesty and you realized that this wasn’t just about hunting for him; this was about keeping you—his _daughter_ —safe. And you couldn’t begrudge him that.

“Well you can’t get in so what do you suggest?” you said, quieter this time.

“They aren’t the only demons in on this.” Dean growled. “I’ll hunt those bastards down and make the higher-ups close ranks. We don’t have to go in directly.”

“I can still help—“ you started to argue but Dean cut you off.

“I said no!” Dean shouted and you refrained from flinching, though your stomach dropped as he raised his voice. Sam seemed to notice your reaction and narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

“O-okay.” You lamented, then plastered a stoic expression on your face. “So what’re you going to do with me while you two are off hunting?”

“You can just stay in the bunker.” Sam said but Dean shook his head.

“Naw, let’s call Jody, see if you can stay with her while we hash this out.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t need a babysitter. I can take care of myself.”

Sam nodded sympathetically. “We know that, Y/N.” there was a ‘but’ in his tone.

Your eyes flitted between Sam and Dean’s faces. “So what then? You think I’m going to bust out? Go on the hunt myself?”

Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded. “That’s exactly what we think.”

“Why?” you demanded.

“Because that’s what I would do.” Dean said simply and you bit your lip, knowing he was right.

The three of you packed up relatively quickly—not that you had much to pack, even after your shopping trip—and piled into the Impala, heading off to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, where Sam and Dean’s sheriff friend Jody Mills lived. While you weren’t overly thrilled to have a babysitter for the next week or so, you were pleased to be around another female for a while. You weren’t girly by any means but you were still a girl, and being around so much testosterone was getting on your nerves. Even if Jody was as rough and tough as the boys described her, you were grateful they were letting you stay with a woman.

As you drove you were pleasantly surprised to find that Dean had a similar taste in music to yours. Though you indulged the occasional pop song or country ballad, your i-pod was mostly full of classic rock. Dean smiled widely when you turned up a Led Zeppelin song on the radio and sang loudly alongside him, much to the annoyance of Sam.

After a few hours you stopped for gas. The gas station was one of those gas station/truck stops/diner types so the three of you split up. Dean opted to get gas, figuring it was best if he stayed by the car and moved around as little as possible seeing as how he was a wanted man. You ran in to use the restroom, pulling your hood up to hide your face in case someone out here recognized you, while Sam got snacks.

Since the station was more than just a Gas-N-Sip, it had a small gift shop area, mostly full of license plate keychains and flasks, but there was also a rickety spinning bookshelf, which you gravitated towards immediately. There were some travel guides, a few comic books, a copy of _Twilight_ that looked like it had never been touched—no shock there—and an old copy of _Harry_ _Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_. You picked up Harry Potter and rifled through it, turning to a random page and bringing the book to your nose, inhaling deeply. There was just something about the smell of books that made you feel at peace, made you feel safe, and it was a smell you couldn’t replicate anywhere else. You took another deep breath, savoring the moment, wishing you had money to purchase the book to take with you.

“I do that too,” someone said behind you and you turned to see Sam standing there, smiling. He had a myriad of snacks and some fruit in his arms. “There’s nothing like the smell of books.”

You blushed, slightly embarrassed that he’d caught you, but the way he was smiling made you relax a bit. He motioned to the book still clutched in your hands.

“Have you read it?” he asked and you nodded, running your fingers over the book lightly, almost reverently.

“A long time ago. One of the girls in the orphanage had the whole series and she let me read them when she was done with them. She was adopted before I finished the series though. I only made it to the fifth book.” You sighed smiled down at the book, missing how the pages could take you out of whatever situation you were in and transport you to a world that made sense, a world where everything happened for a reason, and you could find some semblance of belonging.

“Do you want it?” Sam asked, shocking you out of your reverie and you looked up at him, shocked.

“Really?” there was a hint of disbelief in your tone but Sam just smiled and nodded, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Yeah!” he sounded excited, but you were hesitant.

No one had really offered to buy you a gift before. At least, not one that meant anything. The staff at the orphanage usually grouped all the birthdays together and you had a party once a month with some generic cake and balloons and each kid got something small. Some foster parents had gotten you gifts when you’d first arrived, but it was always something they’d picked from a Target catalogue or from a Bath & Body Works sale. In all honesty, you weren’t completely sure how to accept a gift like this, something you really wanted and would appreciate, from someone who had no obligation to give it to you.

While you were having your mini freak-out Sam put a hand on your shoulder and leaned down to meet your eye-line, which was no small feat considering your height difference.

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes kind. “It’s okay. It’s just a book.”

But it wasn’t just a book. It was an act of kindness that you weren’t familiar with. There weren’t many times when someone in your life had done something for no other reason than to be kind to you, and it made you slightly uncomfortable. In your experience everyone had ulterior motives, and everything wanted something in return. Though Sam was your uncle, you still weren’t sure that he wasn’t looking for something out of this gift.

“I—I can’t.” you said shakily. “I can’t pay you back.”

Sam looked confused but took the book out of your hands, adding it to the pile of things in his arms.

“You don’t have to.” He said seriously, but he smiled at you softly. “It’s a gift. I don’t want anything in return.”

Before you could argue he turned around and headed to the cashier. Instead of putting the book in the bag with everything else, Sam handed it to you and ruffled your hair, laughing when you shook him off of you. When you got back to the car Dean noticed your new possession and looked at you questioningly.

“What’d you get?” he asked and you held it out to him. When he saw the title he rolled his eyes.

“Sammy are you corrupting my daughter with your nerdy crap?” he called to Sam, who was putting the bags in the trunk.

“She picked it out!” Sam said defensively as he slid into the passenger seat. “And it’s not nerdy!”

“A book about a wizard school? That’s like the definition of nerdy.” Dean shot back but you just laughed.

“Actually Harry Potter has sold over 400 million copies worldwide so if you aren’t a fan it means you’re the nerd.” You said and Sam burst out laughing while Dean just shook his head in defeat and started up the car.

Sam slung his arm over the back of his seat and turned to face you.

“So Y/N,” he said seriously. “I have a question for you, and I need you to be completely honest with me, okay?”

His tone made you nervous but you nodded shakily anyway and awaited his question.

“What Hogwarts house are you?”

A feeling of relief spread throughout your entire body and you let out a laugh. “Slytherin.” you told him proudly.

“I’m a Slytherin. One of those of great ambition!” Sam said, making a hissing noise which caused Dean to roll his eyes and punch him in the thigh.

“What the hell is happening?” Dean demanded, though you could tell he was enjoying the laughter.

“What do you think Dean is?” Sam asked coyly, though you were sure he already had a good idea.

“Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!” You quoted, pretending to lift a sword high in the air.

Dean made a pleased noise. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah it’s also the house full of stubborn, pig-headed, reckless outlaws with no respect for authority.” Sam said, and you could tell he was preparing for another punch from his brother. But Dean just shrugged and accepted his sorting silently.

The rest of the drive was spent switching off between you and Sam geeking out about Harry Potter and various other books and movies, and then Dean joined in when he realized you’d never seen a single Clint Eastwood movie—“Not even the ones with Clyde? Shut up Sam it’s not a fetish!”—and soon enough the three of you were talking like old friends. Or maybe…like family. As you sat there listening to the brother’s tease and laugh with one another you thought just maybe…they could start to feel like family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry this story isn't finished yet! I'll update as soon as I can!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wrote this at like 1am so please bare with me if it's not perfect. Let me know what you think!

Jody, as it turned out, was just as rough and tough as Sam and Dean made her out to be, for when you walked in to the Sioux Falls police station she was in the middle of shoving some drunk John into a cell. When he threw an off-center punch her way she caught his hand and twisted his arm around, guiding him to the cot.

“Sleep it off, Digger.” She said sternly and he grumbled angrily as she exited the cell and locked the door behind her. When she saw the Winchester’s however, her face lit up with a smile.

“Well aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes!” she said happily as she hugged them each in turn. Her eyes landed on you and she grinned at you softly. “This must be Y/N. I’d like to say I’ve heard a lot about you but...”

You shrugged and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Sheriff Mills.”

“Jody.” She corrected you and you nodded. Jody looked back to the Winchesters. “So you two staying for dinner or is this strictly a drop off?”

Almost on command Dean’s stomach growled and the four of you laughed.

“I guess that settles that!” Dean said, patting his stomach.

The four of you met up back at Jody’s house and you helped her in the kitchen while the boys watched something on tv. As she got started on the burgers you made yourself busy washing lettuce and cutting up various vegetables for salad.

“So…” she said, cutting up onions across the counter from you while the burgers cooked. “You’re Dean’s daughter?”

Suddenly the carrots you were cutting were incredibly interesting and you focused completely on those, though you nodded. Luckily Jody didn’t press you.

“I know this must be incredibly confusing and disorienting for you, but let me just say this…” you looked up at her and she met your gaze evenly. “Those two are some of the kindest, most loyal, strongest, best men I’ve ever known. And I can tell they both care about you a lot, even if they haven’t known you for that long.”

“I know.” You said, because even if this was scary and weird and unknown, you had no doubt that what she was saying was true. Now it was just a matter of getting yourself to believe it too. “I’m just kind of in the dark here.” You admitted quietly and Jody smiled kindly at you.

“I understand that, trust me.” She said. “But we’re all here to help you through it.”

“Thanks, Jody.”

After that the pair of you went back to cooking in relative silence, which was just fine by you. When dinner was ready the four of you sat down and ate like…like a family. It was interesting for you to watch Sam and Dean interact with someone who was clearly a mother figure to them, even if she wasn’t old enough to be their mother. As you watched them you felt a sting of loneliness and longing, but when Dean caught your eye he smiled widely at you and opened his mouth wide, giving you a good view of a huge glob of mashed potatoes. When you rolled your eyes he just laughed and you couldn’t help but laugh with him, and for the first time in a very, very long time, you felt yourself hoping. And that absolutely terrified you.

Without warning your mood instantly dropped, and you felt a wave of panic rise up inside you. The laughter stopped as you pushed back your chair and stood up.

“Y/N?” Sam asked. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” Your stutter was unconvincing, even to yourself. “Just need some air.” You could feel three pairs of eyes follow you as you raced out the back door.

The fresh air did little to calm your nerves as you headed into the back yard, sitting down on the porch step and dropping your head in your hands, breathing heavily. For years it had just been you, on your own, trusting no one, not letting anyone get close to you and that had worked. Sure, you’d never formed many close relationships, but when you’ve been hurt so often it becomes a reflex to push others away, as a method of personal protection. Yet, here were people who barely knew you, who had opened up their home and their lives to you, asking for very little in return. Already you could feel yourself retreating into your safe little shell inside your own mind, wanting to shut them out and protect yourself. In fact, there was a part of you that wanted to leave now, just walk away and never look back, start over by yourself.

“Thinking of taking off?” A voice behind you said and you sighed, turning to see Dean standing there with his hands in his pockets. “I don’t blame you, monsters and stuff, it’s all pretty crazy.”

“That’s not what I was thinking.” While it was the honest truth, you knew he wouldn’t catch on to your actual meaning.

Dean took a seat next to you and the two of you sit in silence for a moment.

“I don’t know how to do this.” You admitted quietly and you felt Dean turn to look at you, but you stared straight ahead, hot tears burning unshed behind your eyes.

“Do what?” Dean asked, still looking at you.

“This. Be a daughter, a niece. I don’t know how to be a part of a family.”

“You don’t have to know, kiddo.” He said kindly, but his voice was low. “Hell I’m still figuring it out.”

“At least you’ve had practice.” You said lowly, and huddled in on yourself as the wind picked up. Dean shrugged off his leather jacket and slung it around your shoulders, and the instant warmth and weight of it made you relax a bit. “Family takes on a different meaning when you’ve grown up without one.”

“Family don’t end with blood, kid.” He said it with a lot of meaning and it was your turn to look at him while he looked away sadly. Though he cleared his throat and shook it off quickly. “So no one ever stuck around long, huh?”

“Believe me I didn’t want any of them to stick around.”

“How come?” Dean asked and you instantly regretted what you’d said.

“Just forget it,” you said quickly. “Let’s go inside.”

“Hey, wait.” Dean caught your arm gently when you tried to stand up. “Y/N, what happened?”

You jerked your arm away from him on reflex, and you saw understanding dawn in his eyes as you took a shaky step backwards, fear very evident on your face. Tears were very, very close to spilling out over your lids, and you were thankful when Sam poked his head out.

“Dean we better get going,” he called and Dean nodded, not taking his eyes off of you.

“Happy hunting.” You said with a small smile and Dean nodded before walking inside. “Be safe!” you called after him and he stopped, turning to you slightly.

“You too, kiddo.” He said and then you were left alone on the porch again, still huddled in his jacket.

As they said goodbye to Jody and pulled away in the Impala you stood on the porch, letting the tears flow for a moment, but just a moment. That’s all you would allow them right now, and when you’d finally collected yourself you made your way inside, where Jody was cleaning up the kitchen.

“Let me help,” you made to pick up some dirty plates but she took them from you gently and shook her head, a small smile on her face.

“I got it,” she told you. “Go get some sleep, guest room is just down the hall and there’s fresh towels folded on the bed.”

“Actually would it be okay if I took a walk? I’ll be back soon. I just need some air.”

“I’ll come with you,” she offered instantly.

“I was actually thinking some time by myself would be good…” you hoped it didn’t come out sounding rude, since that honestly wasn’t your intention.

Jody looked hesitant but nodded. “Just around the block okay?” she said and you appreciated her concern. “And here,” she opened a drawer full of paper and pens and loose change and handed you a pocket knife. “Just in case.”

“Just in case,” you echoed and stuck the knife into the pocket of Dean’s coat, heading out the front door and down the dark street.

Sioux Falls was small and quiet and for that you were thankful. The air seemed fresher out here and there wasn’t as much light pollution so you were able to look at the stars as you made your way down the block and around a corner. There was a light breeze, but with Dean’s coat you were perfectly comfortable. After about ten minutes you felt the sensation of being watched and stopped, pretending to tie your shoe, but really taking the knife out of your pocket and flipping it open, prepared to fight. However, when you stood up and turned around you were face to face with a large man slapping his hand over your mouth and pinning your arms behind your back, twisting your wrist so the knife fell from your grip and clattered to the ground. A flash of adrenaline rushed through you and you lifted your foot, sending it straight in between his legs, and he cried out, dropping you. When you fell you landed hard on the concrete sidewalk on your already-injured shoulder and cried out. The man was recovering quickly and you tried to push yourself up but he grabbed your hair and pulled you up, twisting your arm to the point where you were sure it would break. When you screamed however, he covered your mouth again and another person hurried over out of the shadows, kicking your feet out from under you, so that you hit the back of your head on the ground and were instantly disoriented and dizzy. The two of them drug you forward, and though you tried to scream, the man with his hand over your mouth kept it clamped tightly. They pulled you towards a running car that you hadn’t noticed before and picked you up, tossing you harshly into the trunk and slamming it closed before you could get out, trapping you in absolute darkness. The vibrations of the car sped up as it drove down the road and you screamed and kicked against the trunk. There was a part of you that was embarrassed that you’d been taken so easily, but you remembered the two men grabbing you, and they seemed stronger than average men, and you had a brief flash of memory of seeing one of them with black eyes.

“Fucking demons.” You hissed and took a deep breath, knowing that wasting your energy in this trunk wasn’t going to help you. A quick check revealed that either they had taken your phone when you weren’t aware or it had fallen out of your pocket during the scuffle. Either way you had no way of reaching Jody or the Winchesters. All you could do was hope that you could fight when it came down to it, or that they would be able to find you before it was too late.

After about forty-five minutes or so the car finally pulled to a stop and you heard the two men get out of the car and make their way to the trunk. When they popped it open you were nearly blinded by light from a flashlight aimed directly at you, but when your vision adjusted you saw one man holding the flashlight and another aiming a gun at you.

“Try anything and you get a bullet in your skull.” One of them said harshly, his eyes flashing black and you glared up at him but stayed silent and immobile. The two of them lifted you out of the trunk, with little care for your injuries and half carried, half drug you towards what looked like an old campground. They didn’t get very far before there was a voice behind the three of you.

“Let her go,” it said, gravelly and deep and one of the demons pulled you towards his chest tightly, his hand at your throat, while the other fired the gun at the new arrival. You were shocked when the bullets did nothing. The newcomer placed his hand on the demon’s forehead and you shielded your eyes as the demon lit up and exploded, his body crumpling to the ground. The demon holding you shoved you to the ground but before he could do anything else the man with the deep voice stabbed him with a silver blade, and he lit up orange before collapsing as well.

The man stood there staring at the demon’s bodies for a moment before walking over to you slowly. Though he’d just killed your kidnappers you were still scared of him and made to crawl away but he knelt down next to you and held up his hands.

“I am not here to harm you.” He said slowly. “Dean sent me.”

“D-dean?” you stuttered and the man nodded. “Who are you?”

“My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord.”

“Jesus Christ,” you hissed, running a hand through your ratty hair.

Castiel cocked his head to the side. “No, not exactly. We should get you back, they are waiting for you.” With that he touched your forehead and the next thing you knew you were back in Jody’s house, feeling dizzy and confused.

“Y/N!” Dean rushed to your side and caught you before you fell, lowering you to the bed gently.

“W-what the hell was that?” you demanded, feeling suddenly nauseous.

"That’s Cas.” Sam said, while Dean fussed over you. “He’s an angel.”

“No fucking kidding,” you said. “W-where’s Jody?”

“She’s okay,” Dean said, still checking your injuries. “Demon’s didn’t get to her.”

Jody entered the room and when she saw you she looked relieved. “Oh thank God!” she cried. “When you didn’t answer your phone I went looking for you, found it smashed on the ground, with some sulfur.”

“She called us and we had Cas find you,” Sam said. “And we booked it back here as quick as we could.”

“Did they hurt you?” Dean demanded as you winced.

“My shoulder is all fucked up again,” you said. “And I hit my head pretty hard.”

“Cas, can you?” Sam asked and Dean took a step back, but not far. “Angels can heal people. Is that okay, Y/N?” Sam asked and you nodded shakily. Cas touched his fingers to your forehead again and instantly you felt your injuries heal, and a warmth spread throughout your entire body.

“Thank you,” you sighed and Dean hurried back to you, helping you lay down and covering you with a blanket, you huddled into him instantly, feeling safe.

“Jody, let me show you how to make a Devil’s Trap,” Sam said, seeming to sense how exhausted you were. Jody agreed and threw a kind smile at you before leaving with him.

“Dean may I speak to you a moment?” Cas’s eyes flickered to you and then back to Dean. “Privately?”

Dean shrugged and nodded, following Cas out into the hall. Instantly you were out of bed and crouched next to the door, ear pressed against the wood.

“—healed her current injuries.” Castiel was saying.

“Current injuries? What does that mean?” Dean demanded.

“There were several bones that were previously broken and did not heal correctly,” Cas said and you were shocked that he could see that. “There was also some scarring—“

“You can sense scarring?” Dean asked, shocked.

“I am a celestial being, Dean.” Castiel answered. “I also sensed something…troubling.”

“Troubling how, Cas?”

Castiel was silent for a very long moment. “I think you should speak to her, Dean. If I learned anything from my time on Earth is that humans do not take well to their secrets being divulged without their permission.”

“Cas? Cas! Dammit!” Dean cursed and you hurried back to bed, barely making it under the covers before he reentered the room. Cas wasn’t with him.

“Castiel fly away?” you asked, attempting a joke but Dean wasn’t having it.

“Do you have something to tell me, Y/N?” he asked knowingly and you shrugged. “C’mon, kid I know you were listening.”

With a sigh you nodded. “I’ve broken a few bones in my life. Not all of them healed properly.”

“Yeah, I know that story.” Dean said, sitting down on the end of the bed. “They didn’t heal properly because they weren’t set properly. And I’m willing to bet they weren’t set because you didn’t go to the hospital.”

“Foster parents aren’t really all that eager to take you to a hospital when they’re the one who broke your arm.” You said quietly, staring down at your hands. “Or your leg, or your dislocated your shoulder, or your wrist…”

You could practically feel Dean’s anger radiating off of him but when you looked up he looked relatively calm, and you knew he was reigning it in for your sake, which you appreciated immensely.

“And…” Dean took a deep breath, collecting himself. “And the scarring?”

Hesitantly, you pulled down the collar of your shirt, exposing part of your collarbone and your shoulder, where there was a layer of circular scars littered across your skin.

“Cigarettes.” You explained stoically and Dean ran his hand over his face, looking close to tears.

“Cas said he sensed something…else?” Dean seemed like he didn’t want to ask, but you both knew that he needed to know. So you sat up straighter and looked at him for a long moment before sighing.

“Settle in Dean, this isn’t a happy story.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF PAST (PHYSICAL AND SEXUAL) ABUSE. 
> 
> A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter, just fyi. More is coming! Thank you for reading and commenting! <3

“To be fair, the orphanage wasn’t all that bad, at least not at first. I was young enough that I made friends easily, and even when parents came in to visit and didn’t adopt me, I still held out hope. But the longer I was there the harder it was to stay positive. You can only be rejected so many times before you start to think something’s wrong with you, ya know?”

Dean nodded knowingly and motioned for you to continue.

“The more couples that passed me up, the more friends I saw get adopted, the more times I let myself get excited and was let down…well it wasn’t easy. Eventually I just kind of stopped talking to anyone, stopped trying. There was a boy that showed up right after I turned eleven. Trevor. He was fifteen and he’d been transferred from another orphanage because they couldn’t handle him, or at least that’s what he told me anyway. We hit it off right away, because we were both outcasts. He’d sneak me candy bars, stay up late with me, help me climb up on the roof, stand up for me when kids would pick on me…he was like my big brother, and it was the first time I’d felt like I had a family. But looks can be deceiving…” you took a deep breath and clenched your hands tightly, trying not to get upset. This wasn’t something you liked to think about and bringing it up wasn’t easy. “One night Trevor and I snuck out into the woods behind the orphanage, we’d done it a million times before so I thought nothing of it. When we got there he told me he liked me a lot and kissed me, but I pushed him off, and told him I didn’t like him like that. He uh, he told me that if I was really his friend then I would share everything with him, and that if I wanted to still be his friend then I would do something for him.” you swallowed hard, and took a deep breath. “He…he pushed me onto my knees and took out his…” you swallowed against the vomit rising up in your throat. “He held my hair so I couldn’t move, and when he was d-done he just zipped up his pants and we walked back to the house.”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean grumbled and you heard anger and disgust in his voice. “Did you tell anyone?”

You shook your head, ashamed. “I didn’t think it mattered. He didn’t touch me and I never technically said no so…”

“That doesn’t matter, Y/N.” Dean told you sternly, but you knew he wasn’t angry at you. “If you didn’t want it, didn’t explicitly say yes, then it was assault. And you were only eleven years old…Jesus.”

You scratched absently at your arm, not looking at him. “I was sent to a foster home not long after that, but that wasn’t much better. There were four other kids there that would throw rocks at me and lock me outside at night, and our foster parents weren’t ever home so they didn’t do anything. Finally, I made enough of a fuss that they sent me back and I was carted off to various other homes over the years. I’ve lived with drug addicts using the money they get for fostering to get their next fix, couples that take in as many kids as possible for the money, a couple who used to have us do telemarketing scams instead of going to school. One foster dad used to hit me when I didn’t listen, and his wife basically used me as a human ashtray,” you touched the scars on your shoulder. “Even the ones that weren’t all that bad weren’t great. Sometimes they’d start out great, and the couples would realize they weren’t cut out to be parents quite yet and they’d send me back. Somehow those hurt more though, the ones that I actually thought I had a chance with. So I just stopped hoping, and when they’d beat me or break my arm I would fight back so that I’d get sent back to the orphanage, it was never as bad there.”

“Did you ever see Trevor again?” Dean asked hesitantly and you shook your head shakily.

“I have a lot of nightmares about seeing him again,” you admitted quietly.

“Son of a bitch should be tortured for the rest of eternity.” “Dean growled and you were surprised by the venom in his voice.

You curled in a ball and hugged your knees. “I could’ve stopped him, could’ve tried harder.”

Dean let out a breath and shook his head. “Listen to me, sweetheart.” He said softly and you looked up at him, shocked by the term of endearment. “What happened was one hundred percent _not your fault_. Don’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions, okay?”

You nodded, tears dripping down your face. Dean stood up and ran a hand over his face, and you could tell he was trying extremely hard not to burst out in anger. “This is my fault.” He said quietly and you looked up at him, shocked.

“How is it your fault?”

“You’ve been through so much. I can’t help but feel responsible.”

“You didn’t know,” you said but he shook his head.

“All that stuff you went through, your mom dying, the abuse, that jackass Trevor…” he bit his lip and took a deep breath to steady himself. “That wouldn’t have happened it I hadn’t been so stupid.”

“Dean, you can’t punish yourself for not knowing then what you know now.” You said and Dean sighed.

“You sure I’m the parent here?” he said and you grinned sadly. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying stuff like that to you, not the other way around.”

“Trauma makes you grow up pretty fast,” Dean nodded. “I take it you know that better than most?” you guessed and Dean laughed slightly.

“You got that right, kid.” He paused for a moment. “So the troubling thing Cas saw…that about Trevor?”

You shrugged. “Probably, emotional wounds don’t heal like physical ones you know?” you stopped and shook your head as though that would shake the memories away.

Dean sat down on the bed next to you and looked at you seriously.

“I swear, Y/N, that I will _never_ let anything like that happen to you ever again.”

Though his voice held no lies, and you knew he meant it, there was a nagging voice at the back of your mind telling you it was just a matter of time. That he would leave just like everyone else did. However, you didn’t want to argue with him or start anything right now, so you just nodded and smiled weepily at him.

“You’re probably exhausted,” Dean said and only then did you realize how completely worn out you were.

You laid down and Dean covered you with the comforter, walking to the door and turning out the light.

“Sleep tight, kiddo.” He said quietly. You were already half asleep so you weren’t completely sure you heard him say quietly “I’ll watch over you.” But you were already asleep.

The next thing you knew you were shooting up in bed, screaming and covered in a layer of cold sweat. The faces from your nightmare were still flashing in your mind’s eye and your entire body was shaking. The blanket was wrapped around your legs and you struggled to get it off, falling off the bed and on to the hardwood floor. When the door was kicked open it slammed against the wall and you screamed again, blinded as the light was flipped on.

“Y/N?” Someone called but your brain was still focused on the nightmare and didn’t readily realize that whoever it was wasn’t a threat, so you kicked and yelled when they knelt down next to you and put their hands on your elbows. “Y/N! Y/N calm down, it’s me! It’s Dean!” as he spoke you were able to focus on him and though your heart was still racing and you were shaking your eyes focused on Dean’s and you stopped struggling. Almost without thinking you threw your arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, shushing you softly and stroking your hair.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He kept repeating.

Sam and Jody came rushing in behind him and when they saw the two of you crumpled on the ground, you still crying against Dean’s chest, they seemed to realize what had happened. Sam knelt down next to you, placing his hand on your hair lightly and you pulled back from Dean’s arms to look at him in thanks. Jody left the room but returned with a large glass of water, handing it to Sam who handed it to you. The whole thing was gone within seconds and it made you feel a bit better, if not much.

“We’re gonna get these sons-of-bitches,” Dean growled, holding you tighter as you kept shaking. “I promise,” he said honestly and you nodded, trying your hardest to believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had Dean say "I'm watching over you" instead of "Angels are watching over you" as a kind of variation of what Mary used to say to him. Obviously Dean's experience with angels (except for Cas obviously) hasn't been the greatest, so I feel like he would want his kid to know that he's watching over her instead, if that makes sense.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for all the comments you guys have left! And thank you for reading in the first place, you have no idea what it means to me!
> 
> P.s. there is a little hint at something to come if you look closely ;) Let me know if you think you know what it is!

After what had happened the last time they left, Dean was understandably hesitant to leave you alone again. So he and Sam had Castiel keep an eye out for the demons while they holed up at Jody’s house with you. Jody was more than accommodating and you got the feeling she enjoyed the company a bit. While most of your time was spent pouring over news articles and headlines to find out what the demon’s next move was, you noticed that Dean also took time out to talk with you, watch movies, or just sit quietly while you read or something. You could tell that he was trying to connect with you more, and that he’d grown extremely protective of you, very quickly. You couldn’t stop rattling that around in your head, that someone actually, genuinely cared for you. It was a foreign concept to you.

There was one night when Jody was working the late shift and Sam was out for a run, that you and Dean were sitting on the couch, just sitting in silence, enjoying the calm. Dean had the news on softly, though you weren’t sure he was really watching because his eyes were closed. You were reading the Harry Potter book Sam had gotten you, completely engulfed in the antics of the Weasley twins, when Dean spoke up, breaking your comfortable trance.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asked and you looked up, shocked to see him staring at you with an odd expression on his face.

“Teal, like a dark teal.” You answered, letting the book fall onto your stomach. “Why?”

Dean shrugged. “It just occurred to me that I don’t know a lot about you. I mean I know some stuff about your past but I don’t know your favorite food, if you have any allergies, if you had a favorite toy as a kid. Y’know stuff a dad should know…” he trailed off awkwardly and you smiled softly, touched at his concern.

You sat up and placed your book on the coffee table, sitting cross-legged across from him on the couch. He mirrored your position and seemed to be nervous as to how you would react.

“Are we talking food I crave randomly or last meal ever kind of favorite food?” you asked and Dean smiled.

“Dealer’s choice.” he said and you thought about it for a moment.

“For an actual meal I would have to say steak and mashed potatoes, with asparagus. But food I could eat any time it would definitely have to be chocolate cake!”

All of the sudden Dean’s face dropped and your stomach dropped as he shook his head solemnly and sighed.

“Well sorry kid but I don’t think we’re related after all.” He said gruffly and you frowned, waiting as he leaned in seriously and said quietly, “We are a _pie_ family.”

The two of you burst out laughing and proceeded to get into a fight over whether pie or cake was better, which ended with the promise of a cake/pie bake off where Sam and Jody would be the judges. After that you switched off asking questions to the other person, nothing in-depth, just likes/dislikes, hobbies, favorite movies and other things you should’ve known about each other years ago, as he raised you. Somehow funny stories about siblings came up and you actually had a few to share about foster siblings over the years and Dean told you about the time Sam jumped off the roof of a shed, trying to fly like Batman. Once the laughter from that story died out, however you were left in a silence that got quickly uncomfortable.

“So you lived in a lot of places huh?” Dean asked quietly and you nodded. “What was the longest you stayed somewhere?”

You had to think about that for a minute, sifting through memories, both good and bad.

“There was a house in Michigan,” you said quietly. “A newly married couple who’d just inherited a huge house from one of their grandmothers. They had maybe five foster kids living there when I got there. The house backed up to these huge woods that we used to play in all the time, and the couple was really nice. I have a friend there too, her name was Celeste. She was the one who first got me interested in Harry Potter actually. She was a lot older than I was, I think she was sixteen or seventeen, something like that.” You looked down at your hands, remembering. “But she left before I did, ran away or something, they wouldn’t tell me. I was there for about eight months I think.”

“How old were you?” Dean asked.

“Five,” you answered. “I turned six while I was living there. It was the only real birthday I ever got.”

“When is your birthday?” Dean asked and then sighed. “God I’m such a terrible parent. I don’t even know when my own kid’s birthday is.”

But you smiled anyway, grateful that he was making an effort, that he cared. You scratched awkwardly at your neck. “It’s uh…it’s actually next week. Tuesday.”

You hadn’t wanted to bring it up, even when you’d caught sight of the calendar yesterday and realized what the date was. Birthdays weren’t a big deal to you, especially since you’d never really had anyone to celebrate with. At least, not anyone that really cared. But the cat was out of the bag now, there was no going back.

Dean’s eyes widened and you shook it off, trying to act like it wasn’t important.

“It’s really not a big deal, Dean. It’s just a birthday.”

“No, Y/N it’s your seventeenth birthday! And it’s the first birthday I’ll get to celebrate with you! We’re going to go all out!”

Your face turned red as he talked, and you shook your head quickly.

“It’s honestly not a big deal. We don’t have to do anything at all, really. I’ve never celebrated birthdays anyway. I’m used to it.”

Dean’s demeanor changed as you spoke and he looked at you sadly.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him.

“Y’know my dad was never around, hell I practically had to raise myself, not to mention Sammy. I just…I never wanted to do that to my kid. For them to have to live like we did.” He said quietly.

You reached out and touched his hand lightly. “You didn’t _do_ that to me, Dean. It just…happened.” Dean shrugged but you squeezed his hand to reassure him. “Believe me, Dean you’ve done more for me in the time I’ve known you than the people I’ve know my whole life.”

Dean still didn’t look convinced so you leaned into his shoulder and wrapped your arm around him, hugging him tightly. He seemed taken aback at first but then returned the hug softly, leaning his cheek on the top of your head.

“I get nightmares too, you know.” He said and you frowned, but didn’t move out of the hug. “Sam and I…we’ve been through some tough stuff, stuff that doesn’t ever leave you, not really. That crap can mess with you, and no matter how hard you try to shove it down, to forget about it, it never really stops hurting.”

“How do you deal with it?” you asked quietly and you felt Dean laugh.

“Whiskey,” he said and you laughed with him. “But I don’t recommend that.”

“Maybe I’ll start running like Sam.” You suggested, looking up at him and you laughed when he rolled his eyes.

“A runner and you choose cake over pie?” he scoffed. “Are you sure you’re my kid?”

You laughed and he dug his knuckles into your hair.

“Hey whaddy’a say we order a pizza and watch Lord of the Rings?” he offered and you sat up instantly, smiling widely.

“Only if you can deal with me quoting the whole thing!” you said and he laughed, ruffling your hair and heading to the kitchen to order the pizza.

When Sam got home about thirty minutes later he found the two of you curled up on the couch, your head on Dean’s chest and Dean’s arm wrapped lightly around your shoulders, with _The Fellowship of the Ring_ playing in the background. Sam couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen his brother that relaxed. As Sam turned off the movie you groaned and woke up, and he smiled apologetically at you.

“Hey,” he whispered and you smiled, sitting up and getting off the couch, careful not to wake Dean. You stood up and stretched, cracking your back and ankles before you followed him into the kitchen to let Dean sleep. “How was your night?”

You smiled around a yawn. “Good. How was your run?”

Sam laughed at your teasing tone. “It was good.”

The two of you turned as you heard the front door open and Dean grumble. A few moments later Dean and Jody entered the kitchen, Dean’s hair sticking up oddly and Jody rolling her eyes, looking exhausted.

“If you sleep like that you’ll screw up your back,” she told him and he waved her off, but grinned.

“Okay, Mom.” He said sarcastically and she laughed, smacking him on the shoulder.

“I hope you two saved some pizza?” she asked you and you nodded towards the fridge.

“There’s an uneaten large cheese in there just for you and Sam.” You said and Sam let out a “yes!” while Jody gave you a look of gratitude before she sighed, collapsing in a chair and accepting the slice of pizza Sam handed her with thanks.

The four of you sat in the kitchen for a while before Dean excused himself to go to bed, patting you on the back before he did so, and Sam followed soon after, leaving you and Jody alone in the kitchen.

“Can I ask you something?” you asked hesitantly and Jody nodded. “Sam and Dean have been hunters for a long time right?”

Jody nodded. “Practically their whole life as far as I know.” She said. “Why?”

You curled in a ball on the chair, wrapping your arms around your knees. “Dean said he and Sam have seen a lot of crap, and been through some hard stuff. Do you have any idea what he was talking about?”

Jody smiled at you sympathetically. “Don’t you think that’s something you should ask him about?”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Yeah something tells me Dean wouldn’t jump at the chance to tell me horror stories from his life.” You said and Jody nodded, agreeing with you.

“Well I don’t know the full story,” she said honestly. “But I know that the stuff they’ve lived through could fill books, and that they’ve seen things other people couldn’t even imagine. They’ve walked away from things they shouldn’t have and quite literally gone to Hell and back.”

You let out a breath and nodded and Jody looked at you oddly.

“Why do you ask?” she asked quietly, though you had a feeling she already knew.

“I know the things I’ve been through weren’t great,” you said, looking down at your hands. “And I know they were awful and I didn’t deserve them but…” you trailed off and took a deep breath. “but what if they aren’t as bad as I’m making them out to be? There’s so many people on this planet who have been through worse than I have, and they just keep on going like it was nothing. And then I have nightmares and panic attacks about things that aren’t as bad as what they’ve gone through.”

“The suffering of others does not outweigh your own.” Jody said quietly and you looked up at her, tears in your eyes. “Yes, there will always be someone who has it worse, but that doesn’t mean that what you’ve gone through wasn’t traumatic and hurtful too. Trauma isn’t a competition, Y/N.”

Her tone and her words made you think she’d suffered too, gone through some kind of trauma and even though you wanted to ask, you knew it wasn’t your place. So you merely smiled at her through your tears and nodded.

“Thank you, Jody.” You said and she reached across the table and squeezed your hand.

“Talk to Dean,” she said. “I think he’ll be willing to tell you more than you think. Especially after all you’ve told him.”

You nodded and sighed, and she squeezed your hand again before heading off to bed herself. After a few minutes you decided to go to sleep too but before you could get up your phone rang and you froze. No one except Dean and Sam had your number, and maybe Jody. The number came up listed as ‘Unknown’ which scared you even more and you clicked decline instead of answering. However, a moment later a text message lit up the screen.

_Unknown sender:_

_Answer the phone, Y/N._

The message was followed by another phone call, from the same unknown number and you hit decline once again. Another text followed.

_Unknown sender:_

_If you want Sherriff Mills and the Winchesters to be safe you will answer the phone._

The next time the phone rang you picked up, your heart racing.

“Y/N,” a deep voice said. “Thank you for answering.”

“W-who is this?” you stuttered.

“Names are not important,” they said and you rolled your eyes. “What is important is that you do exactly what I tell you.”

“Oh yeah let me get right on that.” You said sarcastically and you heard him sigh.

“You Winchesters and your insufferable sarcasm,” he said tiredly. “If you want the Winchesters and Sherriff Mills to remain unharmed, you will meet me in three days, alone. If you do not, or if you bring anyone we will kill all three of them. And we will make you watch.”

You heart nearly stopped, but you couldn’t just give in that easily. “How do I know you aren’t bluffing?” you asked hesitantly.

“You don’t,” he said honestly. “But are you really willing to take that chance?”

You swallowed. “If you really had a way to kill them you would just come in and get me,” you told him. “You wouldn’t need me to come to you.”

“How about this then?” the man said, his voice lowering. “If you don’t come to us tomorrow, we will start killing off children at the orphanage where you grew up. One child for every day you are late. And if you don’t come alone, or the Winchester’s try anything, we will destroy the entire orphanage with everyone inside.”

You let out a stream of curse words. “You wouldn’t!” you hissed and he laughed quietly.

“We’re demons, darling. I think you’ll find there is little we wouldn’t do. I’ll send you the address. Make your choice wisely.” With that he hung up and you dropped the phone on the ground, your heart racing and tears streaming down your face.

“Fuck!” you cursed, terrified.


	8. Chapter 8

For a good fifteen minutes you just sat at the kitchen table, staring blankly at your phone, as if the demon—you assumed it was demon—would call back and tell you it had all been a prank. But you knew that wasn’t going to happen, and slowly the reality of your situation set in.

The thought of telling Sam, Dean and Jody did cross your mind, but you knew they would go in guns blazing and get themselves killed, probably getting everyone in the orphanage killed along with them. And there was no way in Hell you were going to take that chance. So you steeled yourself and shoved back from the table, ready to do whatever it took to keep everyone safe.

It occurred to you that you’d never run away before, even when some of the kids talked about it at the orphanage, or when things got really bad at a foster home. Sure, there had been times when you’d wanted to just pack up and take off, leaving without a trace, but you never did, for whatever reason.

So the fact that you were planning to run away from your _actual_ father, and uncle shocked you more than a little bit. But if this is what it took to keep them safe, and keep other innocent people safe, then you had no choice. You hadn’t really unpacked when you’d arrived at Jody’s, out of habit more than anything else. So you grabbed your backpack, which only really had a spare set of clothes and toiletries in it, and stole some money out of Dean’s wallet—you would forever feel guilty about that, but it’s not like you had money of your own, and you had to get to the demons somehow. Before you left, however, you grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a note to the Winchesters and Jody, simply telling them not to follow you, that you weren’t taken, and that you’d get back to them if you could. After a momentary pause you also added a thank you and that you loved them, just in case you did in fact never see them again. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but you had to be realistic. You also knew that if you stopped to write out how much they meant to you and how much you cared for them, you would lose your nerve. So you kept your note simple and left it on the kitchen table where you knew they’d see it. As much as you wanted to go say goodbye, to explain you knew a clean break would be best, especially if—when—this went south. 

From the drive in you knew there was a bus station at the edge of town, and you guessed it was about a ten-minute walk from Jody’s house. After a few wrong turns, you finally made it to the station and bought a bus pass. The man who sold you the ticket didn’t even raise a brow, though you were clearly too young to be traveling on your own, and you wondered how many runaways and strays came through his station, just looking to get away. He did however, hand you a small bag of gas station jerky and a water bottle, and you thanked him profusely when he nodded and smiled at you kindly. As you waited you snacked on the jerky and hoped to whatever god was listening that Sam and Dean wouldn’t wake up early and find you gone.

When the bus arrived you took a seat in the back row, against the window, and placed your backpack on the seat next to you. There weren’t that many passengers on the bus, but you didn’t want anyone behind or next to you, just in case. The trip would only take about forty-five minutes, and since it was so late you were sure it wouldn’t even be that long, but your nerves were on high alert the entire time. The passengers didn’t do anything odd, the driver didn’t veer off course, but you still couldn’t calm down.

During the drive you thought of Sam and Dean and how they would feel about your leaving. You knew that, technically, you had a choice not to go. But did you really? The demons had threatened to kill innocent children, and that wasn’t something you could take a chance on. Sam and Dean would probably be hurt—and pissed off—that you’d taken off without asking for help or guidance, but if the demons could track you down not once or twice but three times, you were sure they’d know if you brought someone along, and you didn’t want to put the Winchesters or Jody in danger any more than you already had. Still…it was incredibly difficult to leave the only true family you’d known in basically your entire life, and the possibility that you may never see them again brought tears to your eyes.

When the driver pulled in to Salem, South Dakota—the name of the town the demon had texted you—you pulled the cord so he’d stop and got off. Since the demon had only texted you a town, not a specific address, you weren’t sure where to go from here. However, you didn’t have to wait and wonder long because a few minutes after the bus pulled away a man walked out of the shadows. He wasn’t particularly intimidating, short in stature and wearing a plain red hoodie and jeans. As he got closer you realized he wasn’t a man at all, he was closer to a boy, probably only a few years older than you. But as he stepped into the orange glow coming off of the street light, his harsh smile and black eyes made you take a step back.

“Glad to know one of you Winchesters can follow orders,” he said, his eyes turning back to normal and raking you up and down slowly, which put you even more on edge. “That’s good, it’ll make all this much easier.”

“Make what easier?” you didn’t want to sound so meek, but you couldn’t deny how terrified you were. He took a few steps towards you, smiling evilly.

“You’ll see,” he said and reached out to touch your forehead, and the next thing you knew the two of you were standing in a lavish hotel suite, clearly not in Salem anymore. It reminded you of when Castiel transported you and though you’d done it once before, you still weren’t prepared for it and spun around, trying to get your bearings.

“Ah, Y/N!” a voice said behind you and you turned to see your case worker, Brandon Gregory smiling at you like you were old friends. As he approached you took a step backwards.

“Don’t touch me.” You spat and he held up his hands, taking a step backwards. “I’m here. I held up my end of the bargain and you’d better hold up yours.”

Brandon nodded seriously. “Don’t worry.” He sounded bored. “The orphanage won’t be touched. When a demon makes a deal, we do keep it. Need to keep Hell’s reputation solid.”

You scoffed. “How long has Gregory been possessed?” you asked carefully, noticing how the teenage demon sat casually on the plush couch while Brandon walked over to the bar and poured a glass of what looked like whiskey, sipping it slowly before answering.

“Not long. We didn’t want to possess anyone too high in rank, too noticeable. But, things got complicated and we had to improvise. This seemed the most sure-fire way to reach you.”

“How did you even find me?” you demanded.

The demon behind you laughed and you turned. “Please, we never lost you. We just let you all think that we did.”

"In the car, with the social worker…the smoke?” you trailed off, piecing it all together. “That was you?”

The teenaged demon nodded. “Faster and easier than possessing someone,” he explained. “Not to mention we’ve had our eyes on you since you were a baby.”

Your head snapped up. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Your mother and step-father’s deaths.” Brandon replied. “Surely you know that was no accident.”

“He-he shot her, then himself.” Although you weren’t sure you believed it anymore, not with the way they were looking at you.

Brandon huffed. “I’m sure that’s what it looked like. However, the actual details are much gorier. You see, Y/N around the time that you turned three your step-father was possessed by a demon, since we couldn’t let a Winchester child—even a bastard one—out of our sight. If things had gone according to plan you would’ve grown up safe and cared for, with your birth mother by your side. But _Dean_ ,” he said his name scathingly and you grimaced. “had to go and get all these ideas in her head about demons and monsters and well when she found out her husband was possessed she pulled a gun on him. Of course the poor thing didn’t know that guns don’t work on demons and ended up getting herself killed. We had to stage it like a murder-suicide to appease the police and you ended up in the foster system.”

You shook your head, trying to wrap your mind around everything he was saying.

“Why would you want to keep an eye on me anyway? Wouldn’t it just be easier to kill me? Take me out of the mix?” that probably wasn’t the best idea to put in their heads, but you figured if they hadn’t killed you yet, they were keeping you alive for a reason. You just needed to find out what it was. “Or is this all some plot to get back and Dean and Sam?”

“Y/N you completely misunderstand our purpose in bringing you here,” Brandon said, and your eyes narrowed. “We want to _help_ you.”

“Help me?” you scoffed. “Sure, why wouldn’t I trust the word of the _demons_ who kidnapped me and broke my arm?”

Brandon looked down, a look of dramatic guilt on his face. While you were sure it fooled some, you didn’t believe it for a second.

“Ah yes, Brutus and Yvette.” You recognized the first name as one of the demons who’d taken you, and you assumed the other was the women he’d been with. “They were sent to fetch you, but seemed to get…carried away.”

You rolled your eyes. “If that’s what you call it.”

“Believe me they’ve been taken care of.” Brandon said and you grinned.

“I know,” you told them proudly. “Sam and Dean killed them.”

Brandon rolled his eyes at you. “Ah yes, your _father_.” He spat. “Why Brutus had to go and call him is beyond me! It just muddies things up for us. But the damage is done now and we have to work with our current circumstances.” Brandon sighed and touched his fingertips together, his gaze turning kinder, more persuasive. “I know you don’t believe us. But trust me when I tell you that you are _special_. You are meant for something greater than anything the world has ever seen. Your Winchester blood makes you special, Y/N. You are chosen,"

You couldn't help but laugh. "Chosen? What is this a YA novel?"

The demons grumbled and Brandon rolled his eyes at you. "Laugh all you want, but the fact remains that you are one of a very few people who can do what we need."

"What _you_ need? And why the hell should I help you?"

"Because we can offer you everything you've ever wanted, or could ever want. Power, money, fame."

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "And let me guess, all you want in return is my mortal soul."

"Not at all. Only your body."

That stopped you. It sounded far too much like what someone would say right before taking advantage of you, and that was something you knew all too well, and had zero desire to revisit. At the thought of that happening to you again your heart leapt into your throat and your entire body tensed up. Your hands were clammy and you felt your heart pounding against your ribs, like it was trying to escape. Which didn't sound too bad right about now. Brandon, however seemed to notice your panic and took a step forward slowly, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

"It's alright, Y/N." he said calmly, like speaking to a spooked animal, which you supposed in their eyes was exactly what you were. "We won't do anything like that," you suddenly wondered if demons could read minds. "We won't touch you. Won't hurt you. In fact, we won't do anything at all without your consent."

"W-why would you need my consent? Demons aren’t exactly the asking type.”

"Rules of the trade, Winchester." the demon possessing the teenager in the back said. "The plan doesn't work unless you agree to it. Not that it isn't full of holes anyway."

"Shut up, Lucas." Brandon said but your interest was piqued.

"What plan?" you demanded and Brandon sighed.

"When I said you were special I wasn't lying." he said and you could tell he was choosing his words carefully. "You will be the vessel that brings a new light to the world, a better world.”

“Vessel?” you picked up on the term and noted it from Sam and Dean’s talks about demons. “Like possession?” Brandon nodded and you frowned. “I thought demons didn’t need permission to possess someone, otherwise I’m sure you asshats wouldn’t be here right now.”

Lucas scoffed and took a step forward, looking annoyed. “Not a demon. An angel.”

Now that didn’t make any sense to you at all. “Why would an angel be working with demons?”

Brandon smiled at you, and it made your stomach clench. “Because he created us.”

You gawked at them, sure you’d heard them wrong, but when neither of them said anything you burst out laughing and then trailed off, staring at them in shock. It suddenly set in what they meant and you felt like you might pass out.

They wanted you to be the vessel for _Lucifer_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter and it's from Deans point-of-view, just a heads-up.
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting and leaving kudos! It means the world!

Dean wasn’t sure how he could’ve been so stupid. After all, this was his kid and he should’ve known that the demons wouldn’t just stop trying to get to her after a few tries. When had a Winchester ever been able to catch a break? Although he didn’t expect her to leave on her own free will like she had— _if_ she had, which he was convinced wasn’t true.

“They did something, Sam.” He said angrily. “They made her leave, or took her or something!”

While Sam and Jody agreed with him and were doing their part to get her back, that didn’t make this any easier. Guilt was festering inside of him like a wound, and he was angrier than he’d ever been. Angry at the demons for taking her, angry at her for leaving, but mostly angry at himself for letting it happen. He’d grown up protecting Sammy, or trying to at least, and he’d failed on that end too many times to count. Some part of him, some tiny part he’d tried to bury, had come to the surface when he’d seen her, when he’d realized she was truly his daughter. Since the moment he walked into that warehouse and saw her—the spitting image of her mother but with his green eyes and the telltale Winchester fight in her—he’d been lost. He knew right then that he would stop at nothing to protect her. Yes, he hadn’t wanted kids, hadn’t expected them, but the first time she’d thrown herself into his arms, wanting protection, he knew this was where he meant to be. And now here he was, a father, and he was doing a piss-poor job of it so far.

It wasn’t just the demons, or the hurt she’d suffered while he’d known her. It was before. All of the torment and abuse she’d gone through, losing her mother and step-father, being thrown into the orphanage, the horrible people she’d had to live with…it was all his fault. And it weighed on him heavily. Dean wanted nothing more than to drown himself in whiskey, but he knew that wouldn’t do any good, wouldn’t save her. So he threw himself into research, tracking her phone, only to find that someone had put a block on her number, and he assumed the demons had infiltrated the phone system just to make this harder. Jody was calling everyone she knew, trying to see if anyone had seen her leave, but all they had was that she’d bought a bus ticket out of town, but it didn’t say where to. Someone—the demons no doubt—had erased the video footage from the bus station as well, so there was no way to know which bus she got on. Cas had even shown up to help, to see if he could pinpoint her location like last time but he came up empty too.

“They must have her somewhere warded, Dean.” He said sadly. “I cannot find her.”

Dean was finding it incredibly difficult to stay calm.

“They want her alive, Dean.” Sam told him, though that didn’t calm him in the slightest. “They’ve had countless opportunities to kill her, and they haven’t. That’s something at least.”

 “Oh yeah, sure.” Dean said sarcastically. “She’s not dead but she’s a demon’s chew toy, that’s way better.” Just as he was about to give up and get a drink, his phone rang. He hurried to pick it up, hoping it was Y/N but his heart dropped when he saw the caller ID.

“It’s Charlie,” Dean said and clicked answer. “Not really a good time, kiddo.” he tried not to be rude, he knew none of this was her fault, but this wasn’t exactly the best time to catch up.

"You’re telling me!” she replied. “Care to explain why I’m seeing your face plastered all over the news saying you’ve kidnapped your orphaned daughter?”

Dean let out a huge sigh and ran a hand over his face. “It’s a long ass story, Charlie.” A thought occurred to him and he sat up straight. “Actually, we could use your help! Demon’s took her and we have no idea where they’re hiding her. Can you get into the phone company’s main tracking system?”

He could practically hear her roll her eyes. “Do you know nothing Jon Snow?” she joked and while Dean wasn’t particularly in the joking mood, it was a relief nonetheless that she was so confident. He quickly gave her the company’s info and Y/N’s number and waited with bated breath while she typed away. “Okay, I’m in.” Charlie breathed and Dean breathed a sigh of relief, his first since he’d learned Y/N was gone. “I’ve got last four pings on her location, recent texts and calls, the whole shebang.”

“Send it all,” Dean said, putting her on speaker and opening his email, scanning the info she sent him quickly, looking for anything he could use. “Okay, it says the last ping was in Salem, South Dakota.”

“That’s only about forty-five minutes from here,” Jody said and immediately picked up her phone to call the sheriff of Salem.

“Looks like she’s got some texts and two calls from an unknown number,” Charlie was saying while Dean read along with her. “Whoa, these are pretty ominous.”

“At least we know why she left,” Dean said, though that information didn’t make him feel any better.

“There’s only two calls, and she picked up the second.” Sam said. “Any way we can get a transcript of that call, Charlie?”

Charlie typed away for a moment. “Sorry, no dice,” she said and Dean huffed. “It looks like she’s turned off her phone, so I can’t find her exact location but…” more typing from her end. “Even if her phone is off I should be able to pinpoint the general grid it was last in before it was powered down…” after a moment she whooped and Dean nearly fell out of his chair. “Here we go! She’s in…Marion, Montana!”

“That’s where she was born,” Sam said, confused. “Why would they take her there?”

Dean shrugged, he didn’t really care why she was there, only that he now knew where she was. “Does it matter? Charlie you’re a hero!”

“What else is new?” she said smugly and Dean actually cracked a smile. “Y’know as fate would have it, I’m only a couple of hours outside of Montana, I could meet you guys there, help out.”

“Charlie I don’t think—“ Dean started to say but Sam cut him off.

“That’s a good idea,” Sam said quickly. “Dean they know our faces, they’re bound to have her guarded pretty well. They don’t know Charlie. She could sneak in, pretend to be a social worker or something, get Y/N out of the warding where Cas can pick the both of them up.”

Although Dean wanted to argue, he knew Sam was right and Charlie was already talking on the other line.

“I’m already inside the foster system mainframe,” she said proudly. “I’ll fake some credentials that say I’m newly assigned to her case. It shouldn’t cause any red flags.”

“Not in the system it won’t,” Dean said. “But there’s demons there too, Charlie. They’ll be on the alert.”

“I will be too, Dean.” Charlie said and she almost sounded offended. “Believe me I’m not taking this lightly. I know how important this is.”

Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder just as Jody walked back in the room, her sheriff gear in a bag and a fighting look on her face.

“We’ll need to get there quickly,” she said and looked to Sam. “Cas?” she suggested and within a moment he was back in the room.

“I don’t know her exact location but I will be able to get you in the general area,” he said and Dean sighed.

“It’s better than nothing,” he said and Sam put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Okay,” Dean said, cocking his gun. “Let’s go get my daughter back.”


	10. Chapter 10

You were still reeling. This couldn’t be real, it had to be a seriously fucked up nightmare or something. And yet, when you pinched your skin, and closed your eyes as tightly as you could, you were still in the same room, with the demons claiming you were the rightful vessel of _Lucifer_ _himself_.

You knew enough about Christianity to know that Satan was God’s favorite angel until he was cast out of Heaven forever, creating demon-kind and plotting to get back at his father in any way possible. There was a part of you that was seriously concerned that you could be the vessel for something that evil and deranged. And then there was a small part of you—the same part that had told you for years that you deserved all the terrible things that had happened to you, that you were the reason your father left, that your mother wasn’t happy, that your step-father did the things he did—that was saying that it made sense. Of course you would be the vessel for Lucifer. You were the unwanted, unloved child, destined to roam around, never truly fitting in, causing chaos wherever you went. And even though you tried to push those thoughts away, it was proving difficult.

Brandon had left the room a few minutes after his big reveal that you were to be the vessel for Satan, stationing Lucas at the door to, as he put it, “make sure you were safe”. Though you knew he was really keeping guard, making sure you didn’t take off or alert the Winchesters. Not that you had any way to, since Brandon had taken your phone before he’d left and you hadn’t memorized their numbers. It occurred to you that you could try and pray to Castiel, but it seemed all your attempts fell on deaf ears, or perhaps something the demons had done made it so he was unreachable. It made you uneasy, to have Lucas watching you, and there was something about him that reminded you of Trevor. So you put as much distance between him and yourself as possible, wandering around the lavish hotel suite, trying to get a read on where you were.

The drapes were closed over the windows and when you opened them you were met with the grey brick of a building next door, no indication for where you were. The guestbook and toiletries had been removed from the room, so you had no idea what hotel you were at, not that it would matter anyway, since there were bound to be multiple hotels like this one all over the country, perhaps the world.

At first, you were confused as to why the demons would put you up in a five-star hotel, but you quickly figured it out. If you wanted someone to sacrifice their life and soul for you, then you would butter them up first too. And you had to admit, you were going to take advantage of it while you could. Even if you had no intention of agreeing to their plans, you might as well enjoy the lavish accommodations while you could, right?

As much as you wanted to collapse on the plush bed and sleep for a while, Lucas’ constant presence made you nervous, so you weren’t going to let your guard down just yet. He seemed less skilled than the demon possessing Brandon so you wondered if you could possibly get some information out of him. Since he’d already let slip a few things with Brandon in the room, you were sure you could get him to spill more while you two were alone. Although, you would have to be careful, because you still weren’t sure who you were dealing with.

“So you got babysitting duty, huh?” you said, still meandering around the room, not looking at him.

“Eh, it’s not so bad.” He said, his eyes roving up and down your body. “At least the view is good.”

You grimaced and rolled your eyes, trying not to show how uneasy his words made you.

“Where’d Brandon go anyway?” you asked, crossing your arms and plopping down on the couch. “Figured he’d want to make his pitch for the whole devil-possession thing.”

“He’ll be back.” Lucas said, clearly bored. “Just needed to take care of a few things first.”

“So he runs things then?” you knew if you wanted to get info you’d need to be careful, ask certain questions, but not tip him off to what you were doing. “He’s the big boss demon?”

Lucas scoffed and rolled his eyes. “He likes to act like he’s in charge.”

“You disagree?” you challenged and Lucas nodded. “I don’t know…he seemed pretty powerful. And besides, you work for him, right?”

“I work for _Lucifer_.” Lucas shot. “Not some punk-ass low-level demon who thinks he’s hot shit because he’s the head of field work.”

That caught your attention, though you tried not to convey how interesting you found that information. “So, you’ve actually talked to Lucifer then? For real?”

Lucas’ eyes dropped to the floor and he fidgeted. “Well, no not exactly. But I’ve talked to the guy who has and he says—“

You sighed and laid down on the couch. “Ah, I see. Here I thought you were important, could get me what I want but I guess you’re just a middle man, taking orders but never giving them.”

Lucas took a few steps forward, towering over you and you had to admit, when his eyes flashed black, you were scared. You just hoped that your worth to them meant he wouldn’t kill you, though you were all to aware that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt you.

“Just you wait, Winchester.” He snarled. “Once Lucifer is back on the throne I’ll be on top. He honors loyalty. Unlike the current excuse for a king.”

“And who would that be?” you asked and Lucas narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

“Why do you care?” he asked, backing off slightly.

Trying to remain nonchalant, you shrugged. “Just curious. I’m the vessel of Lucifer after all. Shouldn’t I be in on the current drama in Hell?”

Lucas just shrugged and plopped down next to you on the couch, and you tensed at his sudden closeness. When he threw his arm over the back of the couch, close enough to touch the hair on the back of your neck, you scooted away but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Why not?” he said casually. “You’re going to be a meat puppet soon enough anyway.”

“Charming,” you hissed but he ignored you.

“The current ‘ruler’ of Hell is a demon named Crowley.” He put air quotes around the word “ruler” and rolled his eyes. “But if you ask me he’s just a salesman whose ego got blown royally out of proportion. Not to mention he's been buddy-buddy with your father and his idiot brother too often for my liking. He’s nothing compared to our true king. Lucifer will rise up and make the world his, just as it should have been. He saw what pathetic apes you humans are and he was cast out for it. But he was right, and he will come back to prove it.”

The amount of reverence of which he spoke about Lucifer made you nervous, but you could see Lucas for what he truly was; a weak-minded, spineless middle-man who would latch on to anyone with power, in hopes of gaining that power for himself. You’d known people like him in many of the houses you’d lived in, and you knew all too well that their power never came. He was destined to chase the coattails of those greater than him, and you were sure he knew it. But perhaps you could use his arrogance to your benefit.

“So…you could get me what I want then? If you’re so close to Lucifer?”

Lucas shrugged and nodded. “Easily.” He said smugly.

You grinned and took a deep breath, but before you could speak the door opened and Brandon walked in, someone following behind him that made your heart drop into your stomach.

“You?” they said in awe.

You nearly collapsed right then and there.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay! Work and school are kicking my ass! 
> 
> P.s. this chapter is short (sorry!) and from Dean's POV.

They met Charlie at random hotel in Marion. It was a four-star glitzy place, complete with a bellman and an actual fountain _in the lobby_. Apparently she knew the owner or something—LARPing buddies or some shit. Dean wasn’t really listening when she explained it, completely focused on getting Y/N back. He let Sam do all the talking, introducing Jody and Charlie as they all made their way up to Charlie’s room. Well, more like _suite_. Damn, she must have friends in really high places.

“Dean? Dean!” Charlie smacked him on the arm and Dean focused on her with difficulty. He hadn’t gotten much sleep since Y/N was taken, and it was taking its toll on him. Dean was used to going on little sleep, but combine it with the pure _fatherly_ worry wreaking havoc on his entire body and it was hell. “Do you have a picture of Y/N? I want to make sure I’ve got the right girl before I bust in on a bunch of demons.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean said, digging his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through his pictures. Dean had never really had that many pictures on his phone in the past but when you have a sixteen-year-old daughter, she tends to force you to take selfies. There was one from a day or so before she was taken. Y/N had ambushed Dean and Sam, claiming that they needed actual family pictures and had them pose while Jody snapped the pic. However, what Dean didn’t know at the time was that Jody was snapping multiple pictures as Y/N made Sam and Dean laugh with a Gollum impression. The result was a candid shot of the three of them laughing their asses off, their arms still around one another. That’s the one he sent Charlie.

“She has your smile,” Charlie said, smiling and saving the picture to her phone. “Okay, so my credentials say I’m a counsellor assigned to her case, so they should let me in no problem. The problem will be getting out, and getting Y/N to trust me.”

“I may have an idea on that front,” Sam said, pulling out the Harry Potter book he’d bought Y/N and handing to Dean. “Write her a note in there, something so she know's Charlie is with us.”

Dean thought for a moment. "What Hogwarts house are you Charlie?" he asked and she looked at him, confused. 

"Gryffindor." she said and he scribbled a not for Y/N before closing it and handing the book to Charlie.

“Good call, Sam.” She said. “But still, the demons probably won’t leave me alone with her and it probably won’t take them long to figure out what’s going on. That gives us limited time to get in, get Y/N and get out.”

“Perhaps I could be of some assistance.” They all turned around, and Dean pulled out the demon-killing knife when he saw Crowley sitting on the couch like he owned the place. In one move Dean had the knife to his throat.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t gut you right now.” Dean growled.

Crowley actually had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Because I can get you your daughter back, nitwit.”

“Yeah like we’re going to believe you when it’s your demons that have her.” Sam shot and Crowley held up his hands, though Dean still had the knife close to his throat.

“I swear my hands are clean. If demons have her, they aren’t working under my orders.”

“Why should we believe you?” Jody spoke up, and Dean remembered for a moment that Crowley had tried to kill her too at one point, and his anger increased tenfold.

“If I knew of the existence of a Winchester child do you think I would wait until now to play that card?” Crowley said, sounding slightly offended. “Besides I may be willing to do a lot for power but I’m not an idiot. Trust me, pissing off a Winchester by kidnapping his daughter? Despite what you may think I do not, in fact, have a death wish.”

“So how did you know the demons have her?” Charlie piped up.

“I have spies everywhere, darling.” Crowley said. “I can help, and I suggest you take the very kind gesture I am offering. Besides, having Dean Winchester owe you a favor? Can’t pass that opportunity up, now can I?”

“Why don’t you just pop in and get her?” Sam asked, his eyes narrowed. “You’re the ‘king’ after all.”

Crowley rolled his eyes at the implied air-quotes around the word king. “It seems someone on the inside really doesn’t want me to do that. They’ve warded the entire place against me.”

“What? You mean even your own bitches don’t like you?” Dean said sarcastically. “What a surprise.”

“Look Squirrel do you want your daughter back or not?” Crowley demanded.

Dean locked eyes with Sam, who rolled his eye and nodded once. Reluctantly, Dean pulled back, sheathing his knife but pointing at Crowley threateningly.

"This goes South, I’m shanking you first.” Dean said and Crowley just nodded before clapping his hands together.

“So, what’s the plan?”

Everyone rolled their eyes but sat down and got to work.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is fast moving and kind of hectic but I promise things will get explained!

“What the fuck is this?” you demanded, taking a few steps backwards. Your heart was threatening to burst out of your chest, and your hands were shaking. However, you attempted to appear as calm as possible, you didn’t want them to know how terrified you actually were.

_Why the fucking hell was Trevor here?_

“Holy shit.” He said in awe, and you saw the manic glint in his eyes that made you grind your teeth together. “Y/N?” he took a step forward and you held up your hands in defense, taking yet another step backwards.

"Don’t _fucking_ touch me!” you hissed and Brandon actually put his hand around Trevor’s arm and pulled him backwards forcefully, which surprised you a bit.

“Why did you bring him here?” this must have been some sick trick. What other explanation was there for it? These were demons after all, and fucking with you by bringing in the guy who sexually assaulted you was probably their idea of a fun night.

“For you, Y/N.” Brandon said and you scoffed and cursed at him but he held up his free hand. “Hear me out. We know exactly who this is, and what he has done to you. He is our gift to you. Our show of just what you can have if you agree to our terms.”

“What’s happen—“ Trevor started to ask but with a nod from Brandon, Lucas stepped forward and in one movement, broke Trevor’s arm. Trevor screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his arm to his chest, while you just stood there in shock.

“You see, Y/N,” Brandon continued as if nothing had happened. “If you agree and concede to be Lucifer’s vessel, we can make all those who have hurt you suffer, immensely. We can right every wrong that has ever been done against you. We can give you anything you want.”

Brandon was a skilled salesman, that much you could tell. His pitch was clearly well thought out and well practiced, and you could tell he was used to getting a yes. You also had to admit, the idea of getting revenge on Trevor, and the others who had hurt you throughout the years, was appealing. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it during dark times, hurting them like they had hurt you. And here was an opportunity to do so with zero consequences from the law. But the law wasn’t all you had to consider at this point. Yes, you would get revenge, and be free of any legal consequences, but you would also be signing away your soul—literally—to the Devil himself. And you were sure the consequences of that far outweighed anything else. However, you also knew that if you were to say no right now to Brandon and Lucas, they wouldn’t just accept your answer and move on. And there was something telling you that they would become far less hospitable once you declined their offer, and would probably resort to less enjoyable methods to get you to say yes.

“I—I don’t…” you started but you weren’t one hundred percent sure what you were trying to say. Seeing Trevor was seriously throwing you for a loop, and not a particularly fun one.

Brandon unsheathed a small knife and flipped it around, holding it out to you handle first.

“This is your choice, Y/N.” he said, his voice low. “But wouldn’t it feel so good to get revenge on him? To hurt him? Make him suffer like you did?”

It was difficult, and the dark voice in the back of your mind that you’d tried hard to ignore was getting louder. As Trevor knelt there, whimpering and sobbing, you realized how much you hated him, and how much you truly wanted to watch him hurt. Even if you weren’t going to say yes to Lucifer, you could still take this opportunity to get back at Trevor, right? Just as you were about to give in, and take the knife, there was a loud knock at the door and a woman poked her head in.

“Sir,” she called to Brandon who shot you a look and then hurried over to talk to her, having a rushed, tense conversation. A few moments later he turned back to you.

“There’s a woman here from the state Child and Family Services Division. She’s a counsellor mandated by the state to check on your case.” Brandon gave you an odd look. “It would be…helpful, if you were to play along here. No need for anyone to get hurt.”

His meaning was abundantly clear. While they needed you, and were willing to work with you to get what they wanted, this woman was not so fortunate. If you were to make a fuss, tip her off, or let slip some information about what was really going on, they wouldn’t hesitate to put her down. So for her sake you nodded, willing to play along to keep her safe. You nodded jerkily and Brandon called in another demon.

“Get him out of here,” he said, motioning to Trevor, and the demon took him through a door to the room adjoining yours. Brandon waited until they were gone before going to the door to the hallway.

“Please come in Miss Granger,” Brandon said, opening the door and ushering in the counsellor. “Y/N this is Counsellor Granger.”

“Nice to meet you.” You said, holding out your hand, which she shook.

“You too, Y/N.” she said.

The redhead didn’t look like the usual counsellors you’d encountered. For one, she actually smiled at you, a real smile too, not a rehearsed “you’re my fifth call today but I have to act nice” smile. Also, you were fairly certain you saw golden snitches on her socks peeking out from underneath her slacks. What kind of trauma counsellor wore Harry Potter socks to a visit? 

“While I appreciate your involvement in this case, Miss Granger, I assure you I’m a trained counsellor and can help Miss Y/L/N through whatever she needs—“

“I’m sure you’re more than capable but the state felt that it would be helpful to have a female counsellor present.” She fired back, and though she seemed confident, you could sense the small anxiousness when she spoke—like she was acting.

There was something about her that you couldn’t put your finger on. She seemed oddly familiar, but you’d never encountered her before, at least not through the state department. But the way she talked, the way she looked at you, it was oddly reminiscent of something before. Exactly what, you didn’t know.

“Why?” Lucas demanded.

“She was abducted by her convict father and his brother,” she said harshly. “I’m sure she’s had her fill of overbearing men don’t you?”

You grinned when Lucas backed down, surprised by the venom in her tone but you were also more than a bit peeved about the mention of your “convict” father. These people needed to stop talking about him like that. But if this woman really was just a human, then maybe she could help you get away from the demons, or at least she wouldn’t be hounding you about being the vessel for Lucifer.

“Now if you two will excuse us,” the counsellor was saying. “I’d like to talk to Y/N alone for a moment.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Brandon said and you knew he was considering how pesky this woman would be so you stepped in quickly.

“I would actually like to talk to her,” you said quickly, but made eye contact with him. If you wanted to get them out of the room you needed to convince them that you weren’t jumping ship—even though you completely were. “I’ll be alright. I haven’t forgotten our conversation earlier.”

“Ten minutes,” Brandon said and he and Lucas left the room.

Miss Granger watched them go and you saw her fidget with something in her ear, which you realized was a Bluetooth headset. When they were gone she smiled at you. While you wanted to tell her what was going on, to get a message to your father and uncle, you were sure the demons were still listening and you didn’t want to tip them off.

“I have something for you,” she said, pulling something out of her bag and handed it to you. “A gift.”

You gasped as you took the book from her. The same book Sam had bought you at that gas station.

“Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban?” You said quietly and she nodded, a knowing look in her eyes.

“It’s a special copy.” She said and opened it to the front cover, where there was a small message scrawled in the corner.

 _Her name is Charlie_. _She’s a Gryffindor too, if that means anything. See you soon, kid. I’m not missing another birthday. –D_

The message was obviously from Dean. And you guessed the “she” he was talking about was this mysterious counsellor. Well if she was with Sam and Dean then you knew you could trust her. Just in case the demons got a hold of the book, you tore out the page with the note and shoved it in the back pocket of your jeans.

“It’s really, really good to meet you.” Charlie said with a lot of emotion and you nodded.

“You too,” you said and looked over your shoulder at the door, where no doubt Brandon and Lucas were listening. “You’re here for my case?”

Charlie nodded and looked behind you, presumably checking to make sure you weren’t being watched. “I’m here to help.” She said slowly, and pulled something out of her pocket, handing another tiny Bluetooth headset to you. When you looked at her in confusion, she touched a finger to her ear and you popped the device into your own ear.

“Okay,” Charlie said, and you wrinkled your nose at the odd sensation of hearing her in person and through the device in your ear.

“Hey, kiddo.” Dean’s voice chimed in your ear and your heart almost stopped. “Don’t say anything.” He said quickly. “It’ll just tip them off. If you can hear me just cough.”

Though your heart was almost literally in your throat, you managed a weak cough.

“Good job, Y/N.” Dean said, and his relief was palpable, even over the phone. “Now we’ve got a plan but you need to stick with me on this one okay?”

Too afraid to answer him directly, you spoke to Charlie. “I just want to go home, Miss Granger.” You said and she smiled sadly at you.

“I’m sure we can do that.” She said quietly.

“We’ve gotta move fast ladies,” Dean grumbled, and you heard a muffled voice in the background. “Sam’s monitoring the hotel through the cameras but we’ve gotta get you out quick before shit hits the fan.”

“What’s going to happen?” you asked, both him and Charlie but before either of them could answer Brandon walked back into the room, at least five men following him. Demons or not, that couldn’t be a good sign.

“Just when I think the Winchesters can’t get any more irritating!” Brandon hissed. “They send in their little hack-rat to do their dirty work.”

One of the men pulled out a gun and pointed it directly at Charlie, and without another thought you stepped in front of her, putting yourself directly in the line of fire.

“Don’t hurt her.” It came out tougher than you felt and you surprised yourself.

“Sam, now!” Dean shouted in your ear.

Before you could do anything else, the fire alarm went off, accompanied by the sprinklers. To your surprise, when the water hit Brandon, Lucas, and a few of the other men, they all screamed out in pain. It looked like they were burning, letting off steam where it touched their bare skin, leaving blisters behind.

“Winchesters!” one of them yelled. “They’re in the building!”

Charlie grabbed your hand as Dean’s voice rang out in your ear.

“Go, now! Get the hell out of there!”

Without another word you and Charlie ran out of the room, but just as you made it to the stairs someone grabbed your wrist, yanking you backwards. When your wrist popped with the force, you cried out and turned to see a sopping wet Trevor staring at you in fear and anger.

“You’re not leaving me here!” he shouted “What the fuck is going on?” 

Before you could answer him you heard a loud shout and you turned to see Lucas following you, his skin continuing to burn as the water hit him and his eyes black.

“Winchester!” He screamed and you knew without a doubt he would kill you if he caught you.

Charlie grabbed your hand again and you kicked open the door to the stairwell. You half ran, half fell down the seemingly never-ending flights of stairs before ending up on the ground level. The three of you pushed open the emergency exit, the demons hot on your trail and all of you were nearly blinded as you pushed open the door and the sun shone down on you and it stopped you in your tracks. This gave the demons the opportunity to grab you and throw you to the ground. Charlie and Trevor were screaming and fighting and though you were trying to get away, whoever had you was strong and determined.

“You’re more trouble than your worth you little bitch.” It was Lucas, and he used his knees to pin your arms to your sides, straddling you. Panic rose up in your throat and you tried to scream, but nothing would come out, you just froze. “Let’s see if we can’t still have some fun with you.”

His smile was disgusting and cruel and you wanted to throw up but just as he leaned in over you, someone stabbed a silver blade through his chest, and he lit up orange and seemed to sizzle before Lucas collapsed on top of you, soaking you in the blood from his vessel and almost knocking the air out of you. It only took a second before someone pulled him off of you, though it felt like an eternity.

“Are you okay?” It was Castiel, a bloody blade in his hand.

He reached out a hand to help you up, and you nodded shakily, very aware of the hot, sticky blood that covered you. After looking around you saw Jody was standing there with a man in a suit, Jody holding a blade similar to Castiel’s.

“Charlie!” you cried, seeing her being supported by Jody, holding a hand to her head. You helped Jody lower her to the ground and knelt next to her. “Are you okay?”

“Demon threw me for a loop.” She said but grinned at you. “LARPing I can do, but this is kind of intense.”

“Y/N!” you heard your name and turned to see Dean and Sam running towards you.

“Dean!” you cried and ran to him, stopping a few feet in front of him. “I’m so sor—“

Before you could say anything else however, Dean had wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest, in a hug that you were certain would break your spine.

"I—I thought you'd be furious." you said, muffled against his chest.

"Oh believe me in about ten minutes I will be." he grumbled. "Right now just let me be relieved that you're okay."

You laughed and returned the hug tightly, and though you felt his tears on your hair, you didn't mention it. When you pulled back you wiped your own tears from your cheeks. Dean pointed one finger at you, though it was far less threatening that it should have been considering his eyes were red and he looked incredibly relieved to see you.

"Don't _ever_ do that again." he ordered and you nodded, letting you a huff of a laugh.

You put your hand over your heart. "Promise," you said and then added, "Sorry, Dad." to which he smiled at—it was the first time you’d called him Dad, and you both felt the weight of that statement.

Then it was Sam's turn for a hug—which was more like being engulfed by a mound of flannel—and Jody put a hand on your cheek before hugging you softly. Charlie wrapped her arms around you tightly and shook you back and forth energetically, the whole time making a happy squealing noise that made you laugh out loud. Castiel seemed not to know if a hug was appropriate and held out his hand for you to shake, which you just rolled your eyes at. When you hugged him he tensed up, clearly not used to the affection, but after a moment he placed his arms around your back and squeezed gently.

A hand grabbed your wrist when you pulled back from Cas. Dean pulled you behind him instantly, clearly thinking it was another demon, but when you turned you saw it was Trevor. You couldn’t decide if that was scarier or not.

“What the _fuck_ is going on, Y/N?” he screamed and you actually let out a laugh at the panicked look on his face. “ _Who the hell are you people?_ ”

Dean moved his hand to his hip and you knew he was reaching for his gun.

“A better question is who the hell are you?” he demanded.

“Trevor Peterson—whoa what the hell!” before he even got his surname out Dean had his gun pulled, Cas and Sam had put you behind them and Jody had her hand on her own gun, ready to jump in. Only Charlie and the man in the suit—who still hadn’t spoken—seemed confused.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” Dean growled, and you hadn’t heard him this angry since knowing him. 

“He’s not a demon,” Castiel said, his voice lower with the tension in the air.

“He’s as good as.” Dean hissed.

“He was a peace offering,” you explained, feeling stronger now that your family was quite literally protecting you from a monster. “They were going to kill him for me if I agreed to their plan.”

“Kill me?” Trevor’s voice was shaking and it made you happy to see him so scared. You idly wondered if that made you a bad person. “Why would they want to kill me?”

“Think back…” you told him. “The Mason’s farm, that day in the woods.”

To everyone’s surprise, Trevor just burst out laughing. “ _That’s_ what this is about? We fooled around a little bit.”

“I was _eleven_!” you cried, taking a half step forward, but Jody held you back. “You _forced_ me!”

Trevor actually had the gall to smirk at you and wink. “Please, I made you cool. No one would’ve even talked to you if it hadn’t been for me. Besides, we both know you liked it.”

Dean, seeming to forget he was holding a gun, lunged at Trevor, knocking him to the ground and letting his fist connect with Trevor’s face again, and again. It was only when Castiel, Sam _and_ Jody intervened, that Dean stopped.

“Get off me!” Dean shouted but they held tight but standing there, you saw Dean’s gun abandoned on the ground and after a moment of hesitation you picked it up and pointed it at Trevor.

“How many others?” you demanded, your voice surprisingly steady.

“What?” Trevor spat, his mouth full of blood and probably broken teeth.

“Was I the only one? Or were there others? Other girls you hurt?”

“Jesus Christ can’t you let this go?” Trevor said, but you saw his hands shaking and you knew he was scared. Good.

“Answer the question.” Dean growled—his eyes jumping from you to the gun to Trevor.

“You were the first, but definitely not the last. The ladies love a guy who’s dominant.”

You took a threatening step forward, but didn’t shoot right away

“You won’t do it,” Trevor taunted you, smiling a bloody, toothy smile.

Truth be told, you weren’t entirely sure you had it in you, as much as you wanted to kill him, as much as he deserved it. Could you take a human life? No matter how despicable that human may be? He’d hurt you, in ways no one should ever be hurt. Trevor had haunted your nightmares for years, but would killing him stop that, or make it worse? Would killing him make you just as bad? Despite how much you itched to pull the trigger, to watch the life drain from his eyes, you also knew from experience that it wouldn’t dissipate the anger inside of you. Revenge hardly ever solved anything.

Trevor saw your hesitation and started laughing again, which only served to make you angrier.

“See?” the pure joy in his voice made you sick. “You can’t do it. You’re too good.”

That struck something in you and you took a step forward, your mind made up. “You’re right,” you said and pulled the trigger, hitting him point blank between the eyes. “Too good to let a monster like you live in this world any longer.”

Everyone stood there staring from you to Trevor’s limp body bleeding out on the concrete. The only thing that broke the tension was the sound of police sirens, which snapped you all out of your daze.

“We’ve got company,” Dean said and took your hand before you all piled into either the Impala or Jody’s truck and sped off down some back streets until you were safely away from the hotel.

Dean pulled off in a semi-abandoned parking lot and the moment the car stopped you were out the door, vomiting violently.

“Y/N!” Dean shouted, instantly at your side, running a hand up and down your back while you dry heaved, your entire body shaking as the reality of the past few days set in.

“Let it out, kiddo.” Dean said consolingly and you sat back against his chest, your head spinning.

Jody was checking the police radio to make sure no one was following you, Sam was checking Charlie for serious injuries and Castiel was kneeling next to you and Dean, worried.

“Well that was all very exciting, but it seems my job here is done.” A British accent spoke up and you turned to see the man in the suit staring at you with a smug air about him. “I believe you two owe me a favor.” He said to Sam and Dean, who just rolled their eyes.

“Screw you, Crowley.” Dean grumbled, helping you up, but Crowley just grinned at him.

“I help save your sodding kid and that’s all the thanks I get?” he demanded.

“You barely did anything!” Sam jumped in. “Charlie hacked into the cameras, Jody got the rosary into the water tank and Dean, Cas and I ganked most of the demons.”

Before anything else could escalate you put a hand on Dean’s arm and took a few steps forward, towards Crowley. As you took a few steps forward, you could feel everyone tense up, and saw Crowley fidget, as if he was ready to take off when he saw what you were going to do. However, when you got about a foot away from him, you stopped and stuck out your hand.

"Thank you," you said strongly.

Crowley looked shocked but grinned and shook your hand.

"Well, it’s always handy to have a Winchester owe you one." He said proudly but you just shook your head.

"Oh, but I don't owe you anything, Crowley." you said and his eyebrows shot up.

"I saved you, love." he told you angrily, his eyes darting between you and the Winchesters, Castiel, Charlie and Jody, as though they would back him up. "You owe me your life!"

"And you owe me your kingdom." you told him and his mouth hung open comically for a moment before he scoffed. "The demons you saved me from were plotting to overthrow you." You told him calmly. "If I had agreed to their plan, the very first thing they would have done was to make sure you were dethroned. There was an entire group of rogue demons fighting to take your crown, and you were none the wiser. Thanks to me that didn't happen."

"So you stop a handful of demons from revolting? That happens on the regular, hardly equal to saving your life."

"Who said it was only a handful of demons?" you said and Crowley stared at you, clearly not expecting that.

"What?" he hissed, and you smiled wider.

"There's a whole slew of demons still in Hell who would love to see Lucifer back on top." you continued while everyone listened in awe.  

“Lucifer?” Sam asked, fear in his voice. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s what this was all about.” You explained. “They needed a Winchester to be the new vessel for Lucifer. They were going to spring him and jump start a whole new apocalypse.”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean breathed and Jody let out a long breath.

“Well this just keeps getting better.” She said in awe.

“So seems to me that we’re even.” You told Crowley and he just stared at you in exasperation for a long moment before disappearing. “You’re welcome.” You rolled your eyes and turned back to Dean, who pulled you in for another hug.

“C’mon, kid.” He said. “Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> The tags are for the entire fic, and may not appear in every chapter.


End file.
